


Furthest Horizon

by Kuro_Guardian



Category: Naruto
Genre: Cheerful misusage of Sealing, Choices are supposed to be important, Do Not Stare Into The Abyss, Earlier Work, Gen, Gore, Hilariously Overpowered Jiraiya, I May Never Finish This, Jiraiya understands Homura's Choices, M/M, More than Mind Control, Multi, Peggy Sue Fic, Squick, This is EXTREME AU, This isn't just AU, Very Dense Chapters, You can't persecute before a crime occurs Jiraiya
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2016-08-20
Packaged: 2018-05-06 09:34:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 29,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5411813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuro_Guardian/pseuds/Kuro_Guardian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the tragic mistake he made fourtynine years ago Jiraiya has found a way to the past. He's going to change things even if he has to become the man he hates to do it. Dark Jiraiya. Multichapter... epic length. From the same universe as In Soma Est.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hell or High Water

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so like this is super-duper old - like old enough to contract with Kyubei from PMMM. As such Minato is not a name you're gonna see in this. Basically lots of things that were previously AU or Headcannonish are now either Jossed or Ultra-AU. So if that's a problem you aren't gonna enjoy this story - fair warning. So yeah.

**Year 49 P.P. - Ruins of Leaf Village**

He is an apparition in a world of sand the wind howling like the damn, yet his good humor appears to remain. Looking closer perhaps the wild face-splitting grin he wears and the increasingly gleeful cackles he gives are a sign of madness. Yes, it must be madness for abruptly he sobers ghostly white, silken locks dancing in the rising wind. Through the thickening veil of flying sand lies young face appears preternaturally serious. He is a hundred and seventeen years old give or take a decade. He doesn't look much older then fifteen hasn't looked otherwise for forty-nine years thanks to his mistake. Today he hopes to begin a path to rectify that mistake among many others. Slowly that face-splitting grin begins to rise again.

"Hn, the world's greatest kawakami." Or so he calls it because doing otherwise would brashly open the door to thoughts best unbeheld. 'This too could fail.' Ignoring the philosophical wraith beside him Jiraiya continues to work. As always he retreats into the childish behavior that has been his standby for as long as he can remember. False bravado is better then timidity if only because he will go through with this come Hell or High water. The pressure is dropping around him as the wind picks up drawn by the metaphysical maelstrom of energy he creates. "Sarutobi-sensei, Arashi-kun what would you think of this?" 'It's alright, but who was Hokage?' 'Damn phantoms, not even now do they respect me!', thinks a growling Jiraiya as he begins the final set of intricate seals grateful for his stolen regenerative abilities. Still he thinks it a strange thing to cut himself so deeply and so often without fear of bleeding to death.

Not for the first time he thinks this is something he will have to be very careful of revealing when he switches with his younger self. At the very least he will hide this and everything else for as long as he can, not that that promises to be long. After all he is dealing with geniuses, real geniuses unlike himself; people who don't inadvertently destroy that which they sought to protect. ' No instead they go at it directly all honesty and heartless betrayal. Or else they let stupid sentimentality cloud their judgment until it's too late. Or best of all they just walk away until they're forced to return.' "Shaddup brat." The sun is beginning to set on the horizon by the time he finishes.

Carefully he strips at the edge of the seal array barely acknowledging the evening chill. Though he shivers he knows it is due more to excitement then physical discomfort. 'We really don't need to see that kid.' "Yeah, whatever - I'm not gonna miss ya'll." Despite his grumbling he is almost overly cautious as he steps within the vast array and begins to trek inward. He has worked on this idea for the last twelve years, has toyed with the concept for seven more and has all, but bled himself dry the last year and a half to make it possible. Now he's standing in the center of this fantastic construction forming an impossibly simple set of hand sign ending in the sign of ram. Strange his hands are shaking as he waits, too bad - this is it. Either he makes it or he doesn't, but there is no room for fear or error. It's so calm just like last time only this time he can hear his heart loud and deep and so alive. Will it hurt? A thousand, thousand heartbeats and suddenly the world fades - "There." He's going home.

It is the middle of the night when an explosion of chakra occurs that will not meet it's match until the night of the Kyuubi attack. Instantly shinobi and kuonichi bound from their beds and race toward the event. Sadly they are too slow even the Anbu even the Hokage. However, at least two children know beyond a doubt that they saw a young naked man wave and wink at them before vanishing like the wind. Unfortunately they will tell no one, but each other and a single grandchild a piece when they are very old. As such though the Anbu search high and low they will not find the source of this energy. Not even the Inuzuka will be successful in tracking the interloper. Perhaps they would have fared better if they focused on the lower end of Konoha, at least that is what Sarutobi will think in the coming years.

***

'It worked, it worked, it worked!' Happily, mindlessly the white-haired man dances about his room as he shrugs on his clothing with a carelessness he hasn't exhibited for years. If it weren't two in the morning he'd really let loose, but as it is he's already hearing old lady Chong's broomstick against his floor. "Sorry!" Not really, not with such a joyful grin plastered on his face. Finally he sits on his poor excuse of a bed to really, well think. For the briefest moment he gives thought to the plight of a younger, more helpless Jiraiya tossed into a world without friends and haunted by ghosts. Only for the briefest moment does he think of such things because there is too much joy within him to be weighed down with ifs and perhaps; besides it's not like anyone really knows how time travel woks anyway, for all he really knows he is the boy he was as well as the man he is.

The clock's ticking is the only sound in the room as the false youth takes a moment to review what he thought he just thought...ed. Blinking owlishly he decided to rest since obviously he's too drained to think straight. Besides thanks to his spectacular arrival he'll need to report to Sarutobi-sensei tomorrow. Sarutobi-sensei alive and well and...young-er! Giggling as he snuggles under the dingy covers he pities the poor Anbu who have to be more than a little frustrated. He imagines chibi-formed Anbu under personal rain clouds bawling waterfalls as the sandaime stands behind them wreathed in Doom. This has to be the best prank  **ever**  pulled! He gives an incredibly wolfish grin as he ponders just how jealous/proud Naruto would or will be. His expression sobers quickly as he figures out that Naruto won't be born for another eighteen years or so. Abruptly he feels like he's suffocating a heavy weight in his chest where his heart should be. Morning finds him still as death beneath the under washed blankets his eyes huge and blank with shock…and fright.

Sometime between dawn and now he must of finally fell asleep. Too bad he hadn't set his alarm. Rolling onto his side he fully expects to see his most persistent ghost instead he meets nothing, except Tsuande's fist. 'She still hits as hard as ever.' Luckily by this time in his life as a gennin - well chunin his body has adapted well to Tsuande's inhuman strength. Thus his ever more appreciated regenerative ability goes unnoticed as the tom-boyish blonde launches into one of her patented lectures. 'Well I didn't miss these.' 'Liar', says a tiny whisper that may or may not sound familiar. Rubbing his temples Jiraiya is glad he dressed for the day before climbing into bed else he would have ran the risk of making her even madder with bumbling delay. As it is he is free to watch her temper play it's self out while greedily sucking up all the details. Eventually his rapt attention punctures her ire leaving her uncomfortable and skittish.

"What?! Is something on my face? Are you being a pervert?! What?!" All he can do is smirk especially at the pervert comment. Hopefully he can jumpstart that area of his personality before he becomes too suspicious. Abruptly he remembers watching a building burn as people scream. He can almost see a pair of childish pouting lips monotonously parroting a jaded script. 'Is it good for you?' A woman's face wavers above him. Somehow he's ended up on the floor gasping for breath beyond the all-encompassing nausea. 'She looks upset, but my she's pretty.' Belatedly he recognizes Tsuande's face somehow unfamiliar in it's concern, it's worry, it's fear. A hopeless laughter betrays his growing hysteria as he awkwardly realizes this isn't a simple genjutsu change- it's her actual face. 'Guess her genjutsu was closer then I thought.' "Jiraiya, you're shaking." He can barely hear her over his own shouting for her to go away or at least that's what he wants to do. Instead he violently vomits as she grows more distressed.

An hour later he is refusing to meet anyone's eyes for fear of ghosts and madness. Instead he lies in his freshened bed stretching his senses. Close beside him he smells the sweetish scent of apple- flavor tobacco, further away though still too close are the scents of the coolness under soil and the tang of antiseptics. From somewhere inside he cringes remembering he'd never had them over and they'd never invited themselves over as he might have. The Old man's hands are cool and curiously kind upon his upturned face. Focusing on Sarutobi he feels the suppressed chakra, can hear the hidden pulse, can almost taste the 'scentless' milk-based soup Ama-san always bought. She came apart when sensei died.

Tears prick at the corners of eyes. His breathing briefly hitches. Idiot - he hasn't cried in years - so many, many years. The strong, calloused hands move now - one going to stroke his hair, the other taking up his hand. He doesn't dare respond afraid it'll all go away - those strong, clever fingers disappearing leaving him bereft. The atmosphere is heavy with confusion and cowering behind his eyelids he can just imagine the looks on their faces; but why imagine when he can just open his eyes and see? Because seeing isn't believing - he has seen these people a thousand times before despite them being very dead. His madness is after all a very real thing. The hand in his hair stills. "Jiraiya.. Open your eyes for me."

Turning his head to the wall he tries to project his heartsickness hoping it'll make the man beside him back off. Silly he knows Sarutobi isn't one to leave well enough alone. It's just he's heard these words before, in fact sometimes they were all the motive he had to get up in the morning; but each time he heard them the onslaught of emotions was staggering. "Jiraiya." A warning now, the warmth being replaced with frustration. Not that the sannin really cares- frustration rarely kills. "Jiraiya!" Anger now - and maybe fear.. For him?

It's hard to concentrate with the hard, cruel fingers forcing his face toward the building chakra. "Jiraiya." Seemingly of it's on violation his body reacts, eyelids slowly sliding up as his mouth opens in a silent gasp. Meanwhile his mind is finally coming to terms with his actions. This is real or at least as real as life has ever been. These are not phantoms or tricks of the mind. "Sarutobi-sensei." Something in his tone makes even him wonder, but then again Sarutobi-sensei died so long ago and - "Sarutobi-sensei?" Again these hands made for killing become kind and caring as they lay him back lingering briefly upon his heavy head. "Rest." And finally for the first time he can remember in however long he does so without fear of buildings burning.

Standing slowly Sarutobi Sasuke motions for his other subordinates to follow him out of Jiraiya's flat. Outside the dim room Tsuande nervously drags one long ponytail through her fingers. In a truly distracting fashion (at least to her pale teammate) she gnaws her full bottom lip worry a bright light in her honey-brown eyes. Orochimaru couldn't careless as evident by his posture against the wall - never mind his unnatural tension or the slight tightening around his huge amber eyes. Sarutobi glares into the distance his face thoughtful and grim. Seeing the responses of his students he is quick to reassure them. "He should be fine with rest, however something has obviously happened to him. The hows and whys are a mystery as is the severity…" It doesn't take a genius to see where this is going. "Do not worry Sarutobi-sensei we as his teammates will watch over him- as always." Trust Orochimaru to jump in like that he always was the more politically minded one.

***

Holed up in one of Mt. Kage's hidden caves Jiraiya tries to concentrate. It's rather difficult to do so when you're paranoid as hell. Honestly prying Orochi off his tail was enough to give him a stroke. Tsunade was only a little better her 'newer' distance combating her need to not lose anyone else. One of the better things about introducing Naruto to Tsuande was watching the brat crack the layers of protection Tsuande built around herself over the years. Speaking of which that was one of the things he needed to think about. He is supposed to be here to change the future or the past.. Whatever. However, his advantage mostly existed in his foreknowledge which would be all but nullified if he tried to play superman and change everything.

So then, what should he change? Bringing his head back into the wall again he tries not to let his headache get to him. Bringing up his pen again he looks down at the list in his lap. In a manner far superior to his normal handwriting are many dates divided into BK (Before Kyuubi) and AK (After Kyuubi). He has made it back to 24BK a year after Nawaki died so that's one event he can't change. 'I want to.' However, Tsuande needed to leave the village 'cause 1.) that's what happened the first time and 2.) someone needed to remain non-complacent and sharp. Complacency led to destruction as his former past revealed. So then, none of the matters influencing Tsuande's leaving could be changed…

A half hour later finds him red-eyed and bone-tired. At the very least his list is complete with all the things he can and can't interfere in or with. It's 24BK now, so he has sixteen years until he needs to act in any big way. Damn he could use a drink… and maybe a break somewhere in Wave. Pretty, pretty Wave… First however… he needed to create a special hedge; something unbreakable, undetectable, and virtually easy to maintain chakra wise. He has a bit of leeway for a while, but you can only look exactly the same for so long. Taking out another sheet of paper he begins to run through possible designs as he thinks about possible test subjects and where he can get them.

***

Sarutobi the Sandaime sits back in his chair a pipe in his mouth as always ignoring both his growing paperwork and his frustrated students. Jiraiya always did excel at the traits of espionage so it's not surprising he gave his teammates the slip. However, Jiraiya has always sought attention so to have him so withdrawn especially from his teammates is...ah a manner for concern. Beyond that the reports from his other students are discording. Jiraiya appears to have lost his perverted streak. Staking out bathhouses and brothels no longer seems to be his thing. Beyond that he has no desire for saké and has taken an ungodly interest in pranking.

His relationship with Sakumo seems to be as strong as ever although he appears to drawing away from Tsuande and Orochimaru. And recently he has begun to make advances toward the little Hyuuga twins Hiashi and Hizashi. 'What does it mean? What are you planning Jiraiya?' Turning back to his present students he frowns slightly - "You two are to continue your monitoring efforts as well as investigate your teammate's recent activities, however this is all secondary to your current duties - understand? Good, dismissed."

From his perch outside Sarutobi's office Jiraiya ponders over what this means for his plans. Needing to move he waits 'til Orochi and Hime are gone before teleporting to a certain room at an old, brown house. Shaking his head at the laughable security he forces open the window to relieve the stuffiness before reaching for the little blonde baby. "Hey, Arashi how are  _you_  doing?" Cradling the child carefully he tickles his tummy and coos at him. A prompt from his various kage bunshin informs him that the tasks he ordered are complete. If he is to begin work on his plans he'll have to go now. "Sorry little one I'll see you when I can later." Hearing the baby begin to fuss as he shuts the window from outside he almost relents. Almost, but then he remembers exactly what's at stake.

***

Dusting off his hands he checks to be sure his set up is virtually invisible. At least this way even if he is found to be missing it won't be until he's far, far away. Shrugging on his pack he heads for the northwest wall arguably the least protected sector as well as the exit he knows best. Hopefully this won't take more then a week or two including travel meaning he'll be back before the 'sneak' attack from Iwa. He needs to be seeing as it'll be one of his greatest claims to fame. Gathering his presence like a cloak about himself he all but disappears. Behind him the scroll he has buried begins to count down even as it sends chakra gathering tendrils into the soil. At 9:10 tomorrow morning it will release the first of many chakra-reinforced kage bunshin.

***

"Hey stupid!" Ichikage was not having a good day. First he had to duck and dodge the Teammates and the Old man, then he had to begin writing the scripts for Icha Icha Paradise. Unfortunately a small monkey summons interrupted him causing him to waste energy in a flashy distraction. Said flashy distraction led to more running from the Teammates who he'd just lost in the first place. Now he had to deal with the Aggravating One - Sakumo. Thankfully the Scroll would be recharged enough soon for him to leave this troublesome situation with someone else. "Oi, are you listening bastard?!"

***

Leaping nimbly over the wall he pauses to survey the area. 'Goddamn this dang tattoo itches!' Becoming one with the shadows he makes his way toward his bunshin generator. However, someone awaits him there. Shit… the only other brat with old man hair. Not that it matters, he can make more and this is the perfect excuse to. Soundlessly he flickers through a quick set of signs, "Scroll Destruction: Activate." The ground barely shifts over the buried instrument, but it's enough. "Jiraiya? Stop hiding you punkass coward. I know you're there." Ignoring his best friend in favor of some bit of rest he sinks into the ground and vanishes.

Two hours later he is at the gate shaking off sleep and trying to remember frame by frame what previously occurred.. The false caravan is approaching and will be entering any moment now. Stretching out his senses he can feel the Konoha ninjas in the trees which means the Old man got his note. Stepping forward he engages what ought to be the leader. Soon there is a massive fight in the area before the gate so much so that in the end he gives up trying to be low key and begins to fight as the sannin he is.

Two Kage Bunshin join him all three go through the motions of summoning through only one draws blood. Slamming their hands on to the earth before they cry: "Summoning: Supremacies: Awakening." The clones vanishes as Jiraiya stamps his foot and the ground comes alive. The elite Iwa agents begin to scream as the ground beneath them contorts and gyrates forming waves, hands, mouths, and holes to capture and crush them. Twenty minutes later Jiraiya stands alone before the gate even as the gathered nins behind him whisper. With an unseen sign the white-haired 'youth' vanishes from view.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first chapter of a multi-chapter work. For the record it's only going to get more complicated from here on. It'll also be dark, very dark. However, the story style will probably change periodically for example after chapter three the story won't be as jumpy as this chapter's events. However, it won't become incredibly linear. I believe in the intelligence of my readers and so I write as though those reading are more then capable of "looking underneath the underneath" i.e. context clues and subtext. Anyway… Confused? Post a review.
> 
> Next time in Chapter Two:
> 
> The Hatakes, Forbidden Work, and Hoodwinking Death


	2. Chapter 2

** Year 14 B.K. **

Thank goodness they’re old enough not to have to sneak alcohol anymore. “I’m gonna be a father!” Too bad his tolerance is too high to make a difference. “A boy or a little girl who looks just like me!” ‘Don’t curse the brat’, is what Jiraiya thinks as he drapes himself loosely upon a chair by the wall wishing he could just leave. Friends however celebrate good news with friends and… he’d done it the first time. However, sanctity of time aside Sakumo‘s blabbering was easier to take when he was sloshed too. How the twins are able to deal with this is beyond him since they seem sober.

 

“Shut. The. Fuck. Up!!”, is what he finally says as his eye twitches dangerously and his hands begin to curl into claws. “Bet ya he loses it in five minutes tops.”, says Hizashi the bastard.  ‘Well, at least one of them isn’t sober or is that my bad influence?’ The older twin rolls his eyes and pointedly looks elsewhere, “Betting is a vulgar activity far beneath me… besides he won’t make it past two.” Barely suppressing his rising level of killing intent along with an almost irresistible urge to *twitch* Jiraiya thinks one thing: ‘They die… They both die - drunk or not.’

 

“…And I’ll teach him to throw kunai and kick ass and fly and…” Twenty minutes later Jiraiya breaks out the duck tape and nin wire. Two minutes later three figures are unceremoniously hanging upside down cocooned in chakra reinforced duck tape covered in neon writing. The scrawls on the roughly identically sized wraps read as some _very_ creative epithets, the other sheath has only one message which  reads ‘Congratulations Sakumo Hatake! Try not to fuck up bastard!’ A line is beginning to form to take pictures with the cocoons. ‘He dies’, thinks one angry twin. ‘He dies painfully’, thinks the other angry twin. ‘He dies after enduring hell on earth and then some’, think the obviously unbalanced pair. ‘What the hell does he mean fuck up?!’

 

Meanwhile somewhere further down the road carelessly shrugging off the feeling of righteous indignation Jiraiya almost reaches for his pack of his cigarettes, however the bawling out he’d receive from his gennin team much less Tsuande just isn’t worth it. ‘The Old man puffs like a friggin’ chimney and no one says word one to him. Dammit I’m a hundred and twenty-seven! I can bungee-jump butt-fucking-naked without a cord or a safety net for all it really matters now!’ Well, it does matter seeing as he hasn’t actually changed anything yet. Sure he’s trying to be a better teacher to Arashi’s team without betraying whatever formula worked so well before, and he’s keeping a better eye out for all the little details that shouldn’t matter, but end up meaning the world. Literally.

 

On autopilot the dobe sannin ghosts through backstreets and ill lit alleys until he comes to a door set below street-level. Placing a hand to the strange rune circle upon it a brief display of phosphate light graces the dingy street. When it clears the twenty-something is nowhere to be seen. Shipping down the steps Jiraiya stops to be sure all his security systems are in place especially the ones blocking Sarutobi’s view. A rather unpleasant business that. On the one hand the Old bastard couldn’t say anything without admitting to spying on loyal subordinates thus lowering trust. On the other what truly **loyal** shinobi would need to block his commander’s eye? His standing with the sandaime grows thinner with each passing day which is funny since Orochi is doing far worse things for far more selfish reasons… Favoritism sucks. Pleased with his setup he continues onward toward the main structure.

 

Jiraiya’s lair sprawls underneath half a block of unrepeatable territory, but for all intents and purposes (like random Teammate Inspection Day) there is a central hub acting as his home. Three bedrooms, two baths, a study, a kitchen, a library, a living room, and a den. Hidden doors lead to storage rooms, labs, and hide-aways. Jiraiya has been very busy. Soon he’ll be busier still with Kakashi coming in September. He needs to get Arashi up to jounin soon so he can become Kakashi‘s sensei. More importantly he needs to slip in more information for Sarutobi beneath his Anbu guise of Windfall, that way later if he slips in some ah… incorrect info and Sakumo has to make a hard decision oh, well. Sakumo has to ‘die’ so Kakashi can become a royal bastard so Obito can die so Kakashi can get his eye. He has plans for that eye.

 

Walking down one of a dozen rambling corridors Jiraiya counts his steps knowing these halls contain an ungodly number of fatal traps concealed masterfully. Only half-way to his destination and he can hear the muffled chorus of his current subjects. He needs Sakumo to ‘die’ without actually dying. Too bad he’s a seal master not a medic. The methods he has are not elegant though they are somewhat clever. He can seal the soul in the body, seal the mind away behind a sort of dummy consciousness and purpose. He can place restriction seals to limit damage and slow the nearing of death. He can do all of that, the trouble is finding the right combo. Thus he needs guinea pigs; because sadly you can’t make an omelet without a few broken eggs.

 

A few hand signs create a door in what should be solid rock. The cacophony of suffering before muffled now blasts out at hellish levels. Bodies hang from the wall, are sprawled on the floor, curled into themselves on makeshift pallets. Stepping in and dismissing the door he created Jiraiya reaches for the notepad and case folder for this group. Test subject Amara has died finally of her initial complication - infection. That is the biggest issue, even if he can solve the rest - how will he combat the sure occurrence of infection? The oblivion jutsu is a possibility, but he has yet to perfect it and Tsuande already distrusts him, will surely hate him once he moves against Orochi.

 

For an hour and a half Jiraiya checks off the living and the dead noting the corruption of flesh, the rate of blood loss, the onset and metabolism of infection. To these pain-wracked perversions of men and women before him he is the devil himself; a monster uncaring of their suffering - walking among them as though the stench of their unwashed bodies, untended injuries, blood - sweat-piss- and shit are nothing. A man vomits upon himself even as watery shit slides down his emaciated thighs. He has long ago bitten off his tongue in hopes of dying. Instead he is forced to swallow his blood or else spend hours coughing it up. There is a foot long incision in his gut where a cancerous fount of pus-laced blood and shit fed malignancy grows. He has been here for four days.

 

Jiraiya stops before the man: test subject Al - a confirmed rapist despite being a priest. He has decided it is not wrong to revel in the pain he causes this man. He has decided that as all the people here are murderers, thieves, and monsters of the worse kind he couldn’t care less about hurting them. Besides if he can perfect his skills then he can save Sakumo, can save everyone as he couldn’t before. Finished recording the new data he pulls on a smock and moves toward a nearby tray for his tools, he really needs to know how far he can go. Seeing the emotionless gaze turned to himself Al begins to moan his tongue less mouth agape in terror and despair.

 

A month later an unconscious, but sated White Fang is lying beneath him entirely unaware of the intricate work being inked and carved onto and into his skin. His white-haired friend is cursing his need to sweat as he carefully continues. Hopefully Orochi will not hear of this anymore then Sakumo’s wife will otherwise he’ll have to find another way to get close to the bastard. A year and a half of clandestine research is now being put to the test or will be once he finishes and wakes his subject. Clapping his blood-speckled hands Jiraiya gathers chakra and then lays his glowing hands on the master seal over Sakumo’s heart.

 

Wrapped loosely in a burgundy robe Jiraiya watches as a steady hand lifts a polished tanto and holds it before a beautifully sculpted belly. The sharp point slides through skin and muscle like heat through butter arterial red bubbling airward to slide down creamy, moon-blessed skin. Is it wrong to be getting hard at this? The blade is pulled slowly, at least it seems slow, down and the red tide covers everything like a warm, scarlet coverlet. Visceral membranes are visible and Jiraiya grasps the chair he sits upon. It isn’t fair, Sakumo is a beautiful man and his eyes are beckoning lips parted just so, legs parted just enough to drive one mad and the Voice that only one boy was ever meant to know is whispering to him again.

 

He jerks off in the cooling blood puddle once it’s said and done. “Disgusting.” A pinkish mess spilling over his hand, his thighs, his belly. Before he can think his hand is in his mouth and he’s hard again wanting to be fucked or to fuck or something, anything. Subject Purpose is not too far away and he’s big especially there. He wavers and weaves through cold, stone hallways pausing time and time again to reach between his trembling thighs to touch and toy. Waking up next to the golem man he’s made all he can concentrate on is his aching anus and that his timeframe for retrieval is a little better than four hours and more than two is pushing it. He isn’t eager to get up knowing Tsuande-hime will be passed out on his couch and he’ll need to get pass her caked in blood and cum with a hangover like Hell. “The things I do for Konoha.”

 

** 14BK - September 9th **

“Uncle Sensei? Is he gonna be alright?” Well, it’s no surprise where Naruto got his odd nicknaming kick from. Although Arashi is right to question Sakumo’s mental integrity what with the man literally bouncing off the walls. If they let him he’ll start skipping laps around the ceiling. “Oi, jackass - sit **down**. Being a git won’t make the kid pop out quicker.” No effect as the soon to be father continues his oddness ignoring the large, white-haired man and his little blond charge. “Asshole.” The waiting room is pink with baby blue accents and a “lovely” palsy green carpet. ‘One well placed fire ball and…’

 

The door opens causing a loss of concentration in a certain ceiling walking git. Once he’s back on his feet the lump on his head glowing menacingly the nurse informs him that it’s a boy. ‘Duh.’ All, but shitting rainbows and smiley faces the ‘fearsome’ White Fang skips joyfully down the hallway effectively weirding out everyone that sees him. Men in masks don’t skip merrily much less joyfully. “Uncle sensei? Does having kids make you retarded?” In defiance of the posted signs Jiraiya Noninuzka laughs himself red in the face as his student’s bright little face screws it’s self up into a mask of bewilderment.

 

A few minutes later still chuckling with tears in the corners of his eyes he walks into the interesting scene of Sakumo ducking and dodging his wife’s prodigious aim. The items hitting the wall leave holes the size of dinner plates. “Stay away from me! It’s because of **you** I had to go through this! Impotent Infidel! Get back!!!” The blonde hiding behind him quietly declares he is never having kids to which Jiraiya replies by laughing harder than ever right before receiving a hard thrown radio to the mouth. The sight pauses Sakumo long enough for him to earn a hit too. While the nurses fuss over the two Sora introduces her pretty new baby boy to his future sensei. Kakashi promptly shits on Arashi.

 

** 9BK **

It’s a long five years with war posturing as skirmishes along all borders. The Toad sennin sits upon a building roof across the street from the Academy just like the day he waited for Arashi. Unlike Arashi who was borderline schizo on graduation, little Kakashi is cool, calm and collected - aside from the way his eyes dart around in search of his favorite people. Flashing around on his forehead is his shiny new headband, strange seeing as the brat is five this fine august day. A brief ‘slip’ of control allows Kakashi to find him.  The little wanker actually bowls him over with the speed he exhibits. “Look jiji-san I beat the sannin record.” By one stinking month. “Yeah, whatever brat I’m only thirty so stop calling me old man. Now if you want a celebratory dinner before I change my mind you’ll move your butt midget.” Even with the mask it’s easy to see the face-splitting grin. ‘Damn Sora you shouldn’t have died - again. Sakumo always was a social fuckup, who else would put a kid in a mask?’

 

In a one-sided race Kakashi blasts past the closest thing he has to an uncle. The white-haired man is busy rebalancing his checkbook pleased by all the lovely zeros. Icha Icha is still a best seller and his newer Ai Ai Alt. is quickly rising to the top. Thankfully he’s been smart enough this time to write under an alias complete with hedge. Belatedly he realizes ‘Kashi is impatiently waiting at the teahouse his mother loved. If he isn’t mistaken Orochi’s aunt runs the place. Nice enough lady, a little too snake-like and more than likely a holder of grudges. She’ll hate him dearly when he kills her nephew. People are always so ungrateful. Last time she’d been the first to tell him she’d wish he’d kill Orochi.

 

As little Kakashi drops his mask (a hard won battle involving a solid month of fighting and a six-month silent feud with Sakumo) to ‘attack’ his eggplant soup the happy, innocent expression on his face is almost, almost enough to make Jiraiya feel guilty. Even now Konoha’s White Fang and his team are walking into a situation they can’t handle. Soon he’ll have a choice to make - abandon the mission or abandon his squad to die and complete it himself. Last time he did what he had to do and if Jiraiya is correct he’ll do the same this time. He’ll never recover from whatever choice he makes and so little Kakashi will suffer the consequences… alone. This afternoon will be the last o f its kind for a long time, if not ever. “Jiji-san? Jiraiya-sama? Are you okay?” Jiraiya’s wistful face morphs into a comforting smile all the more effective for all the cobweb tatters of sadness that cling to it. “Don’t worry everything’s fine.”

 

Watching Arashi and Kakashi interact is both better and worse than it was before. It doesn’t help that he seems to be avoiding the both of them. At night he weaves together a tight genjustsu to fuck with Sakumo’s mind not that he really needs to bother - Konoha’s populous does it for him. Sometimes walking through events already lived and seeing things for what they actually are he can’t remember why he ever cared for Konoha. It’s getting harder to care as he watches a proud man stumble about his empty rooms slowly surrendering to demons mostly manufactured by the man supposed to be his best friend.

 

Forcing bile back as he experiments and improves his genjutsu Jiraiya tells himself that this is needed. That with what he learns he’ll be able to advance his plans. Plans he needs now because he’s come too far to run away. So for a month he builds greater and greater mind traps for his friend, brother and sometimes lover until finally he feels Sakumo is weak enough for his version of the curse seal - the Purpose seal. It’s tiny, invisible except when activated or in the presence of its creator, and what will drive Sakumo through his paces for the next dozen years. Its first task is herding Sakumo to his ‘inevitable’ demise. The day after he applies the tattoo he is called away for an extended mission in rock.

 

** 7BK - Feb. 29th **

The baby he holds is barely a weight in his hands. Cradling it like a final gift the trim young man in the white, wolverine -fur coat knows he is damning himself yet further. For all the sins this child might have grown to commit, surely he is innocent now. One long finger traces an angelic face. The semi-blind eyes open; they are a murky amethyst and for a moment a blond youth sits beside him pondering the merits of blindness. _“Ero-sennin’, the husky voice made gruff by weariness and strain, “ I don’t want purple eyes.”_ Rising from the green, green grass he lowers the baby into the cool, clear water while golden leaves gently fall in the breeze. When he can’t feel any more motions to breathe he lifts the half-breed from the stream and lies it on its on little pyre. The fire dries the corpse soon enough and sooner still there’s only ashes mixed into dirt as Jiraiya tidies up to leave. In four months Sakumo will ‘die’. There is still so much to do.

 

** 7BK - July 15th **

Hidden in the woodworks Jiraiya lies stretching his senses to follow the drama above. The sound of bare feet heavy with fatigue treading away doors opened and closed quietly. The same weary tread returning and a negligible weight settling on the floor. A scratching sound like pen on paper (who’d thought the aggravating git could be so traditional) followed by breathless waiting and then steel meeting flesh. A sound of something thick and fluid sounding quickly, heavily and then slowing, thinning. A sensation of quiet punctured only by soft groans and sighs. A clock tics loudly marking the time before a legend dies. A clatter and a deeper resigned sigh. A heavy thud as a weight meets the floor.

 

The scent of iron, copper, and blood-soaked wood. A dampness as the spreading puddle permeates further. A heaviness of atmosphere like at a empty slaughterhouse meat, organs, shit, and piss. Underlying all of it is the quiet workings of a dozen, dozen little runes set in strange patterns. Lulling the suffering man to sleep, slowing his breath and heartbeat to nearly nothing. It’s a long afternoon waiting for Kakashi to return and weep. A long afternoon of counting down to the sounds of whispers and a child’s breaking heart.

 

Shaking himself like a dog the former super-prev watches the chunnin as they run toward the morgue grey bag slung between them. He’d thought they’d never leave as more and more footfalls gathered round to gawk at the mess. Lying beneath the floorboards as Sarutobi puttered about above him he’d nearly lost it waiting to be called out all his plans gone to pot, but finally they cleared it all up while Sarutobi played caring grandfather to Kakashi. ‘Although’, and the still-freaked sannin smirks, ‘ I don’t think sweet grandfatherly men are suppose to curse like that...heehee.’

 

Chunnin are generally stupid little things only a little better then a gennin and so it wouldn’t be exactly hard to string them up tied and unconscious…but then there’d be no body. All the work he has undertaken only to fall to impatience? Surely not. So instead he tracks them like a fairytale wolf until they leave their burden in the cold, lonely morgue. Phasing in with a man-sized load on his back the seal master locks down the room before unzipping the grey bag. The face he looks upon seems entirely lifeless, yet the Purpose seal calls out to his own Master seal. Switching his own burden for the still living legend Jiraiya pauses to admire his handwork… you really couldn’t tell the difference. Tsuande wakes on the morrow with a headache like hell’s fury and an aftertaste in her mouth of dusty wine. She can’t account for the missing hours or the blood caked on her hands.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Confused? Post a review for a personal reply.
> 
> For the record it’s only going to get more complicated from here on.
> 
> Next time in Chapter Three:
> 
> Comrades, Death, and The creation of a Jinchiruki


	3. Chapter 3

** Year 2 B.K. **

Anko is a sweet enough child beyond the bloodlust Orochimaru is breeding in her like some strange horticulturist. She is a bright ten year old girl with some degree of talent, but still Kakashi can’t figure out why his uncle’s friend much less _his_ uncle Jiraiya would take such an interest in her. Even so she’d be a better teammate then that crybaby Obito. Still pissed at being reprimand by cousin Arashi when the whole situation was obviously Obito’s fault he tosses another shuriken into his target imaging goggles and smirking faces. Why does he need a team anyway? He should be on solo training with Arashi-san like Anko is with Orochimaru.

 

As twelve-year-old Kakashi continues a very Sasuke-like inner monologue his ‘uncle’ is watching his former teammate begin to turn. He watches the corruption of an innocent child and knows he is damned because he will not intervene until after the perversion is solidly set - the timeline must be preserved as closely as possible after all. Holding himself motionless he comforts himself with the vow that at ‘least’ she will not know the curse mark, nor the death of her eventual teammates. She will still be warped by hatred - this time for him, but at least the curse seal will not pick at her mind and sanity always accompanied by the sting of betrayal.

 

Months past like formless dreams and as the body count mounts higher Jiraiya can’t be bothered to recount where he lays his head. Nights of long, white fingers tangled maddeningly in his crown of white hair alternate with torchlight meetings spent training tattooed men and children. The moon seems to constantly be in motion as he treads the line between duty and suspicion. He can never get the stench of blood and dying out of his clothes, his hair, his skin as he lies in trenches, sits in tree, appearing like a phantom amongst the meat grinder battlefields. He wades through corpses - friend and foe and stranger as he attempts to hold the time stream to his demands. It seems his hands are constantly shaded red and black with the blood of strangers and the seals he makes. All eyes are on him as he continues to excel, to evolve and not all of them are filled with admiration. Yellow eyes lust, grey eyes hush, blue eyes war for his attention. He can no longer look into his sensei’s tired, violet eyes. His student becomes the Yellow Flash of Konoha and he the legendary sannin, the Toad sennin, the ninja Jiraiya earns the title of Poltergeist. It is two years before the Kyuubi attacks.

 

It is two months before Dan will lose his head on a sad little battlefield west of ‘here’ and Jiraiya impales himself again on the effeminate man beneath him. As they near their peaks Jiraiya begins a conscious unraveling of his semi-permanent hedge. The fluxing chakra manages to gain the pale man’s attention his eyes opening a mere crack glazed with lust. As the illusion melts away his eyes widen and he comes staring with undisguised disbelief into the fifteen-year-old face of his lover.

 

For a time he doesn’t move his white hair trailing in the cooling blood as his unfocused eyes stare into the fixed pair below him. The pupils are dilated so wide the golden irises are merely a suggestion. The strangest thing is that they are located in an unfamiliar face. “How long Orochi?” The pretty-boy beneath him doesn’t answer. Perhaps it’s the knife in his throat or the fact he’s dead. His legs are cramping badly enough to make him move. He needs to be out of here by morning. He leaves his scratched protector on the naked body.

 

** One year until the Kyuubi. **

The missing-nin Jiraiya wearing his ‘quiet’ face and long, straight chocolate brown hair moves quickly through the market to meet his Konoha contact. He notices the looks he gets and isn’t surprised considering his quiet face is a mix of Orochi and Tsuande overlaid his own unaged face. The long, white sundress he wears barely flutters in the fitful breeze. Wave is _such_ a beautiful country. Cross-dressing is a sure way of confusing the enemy a fact Orochimaru was quite fond of…gay bastard. A frown wrinkles his pretty face - it’s still really odd, Orochi being dead… All the trouble they’d had last time and all they had to do was lower their morals. Well, all he had to do was lower his morals… and his pants.

 

Feeling a twinge in his Master seal Jiraiya stretches his senses out to the men shadowing him. They sense others tracking him. They want to move. Raising a slender hand to brush back his hair he gracefully flashes a signal off so quickly it’s barely subliminal. Still his men calm down. From the corner of his eye he sees a flash of silver the chance glancing of light off of metal. Either the old man has caught on to his game or Danzo has decided to play.

 

Switching the basket he carries from one hand to another he rubs the master seal engraved between his shoulders. Only aching at times of trouble it’s slow, deep throb is not a good sign. The market stalls grow larger and sparser in number as he enters the shop district heading toward a well-regarded café. Amon’s is an airy little place composed of great, wide windows and private little coves made of ivy and off-beat artwork. Walking in he is greeted by Kuchiko and Aizen. “Your ‘friend’ is over by the pond.” Trust Kuchiko to be so annoying, “We’re _just_ business partners.” “Of course’, the smirk Aizen tries to hide by pushing up his glasses is not appreciated. “Hmph’, with a toss of now black hair the cross-dressing ninja walks away toward the pond. It’s just as well they were meeting outside, if worse came to worse Aizen and Kuchiko wouldn’t have as much to clean up later.

 

“Jali.” The skinny, little nephew of Fuguku turns with a start ever the consummate actor. With his eyes perpetually hidden by shaggy bangs and the physique of an underdeveloped adolescent the boy was a forgettable figure which is what made him so useful. Slowly sinking to his knees beside the staring youth Jiraiya continues in a hard voice, “Are you aware you’ve been followed? And what have I told you about staring? I’m a **boy** you friggin’ idiot. A boy!” Jali blushes one hand behind his head, the other casually lying a top his hidden blades. “I can’t help it, you’re just so pretty.” A narrowing of the eyes earns a lowering of lashes and a tilt of the head to the right. “Only ‘pretty’?” The Master seal burns. “Surely our watchers think I’m more then pretty. Don’t you Kakashi-kun, Anko-chan?”

 

There are more, nameless shinobi destined to die unremembered and unnamed today. It’s only these two who matter betrayed and angry. “Pleased you remembered me jiji-san. Now if you could just drop that disguise and follow us back to Konoha? Your trial awaits.” ‘Kakashi you never change.’ Barely turning his head Jiraiya gazes into one bright, blue eye as a tilted forehead protector covers where the other should be. “Oh, did kashi-kun have an _accident_?” The sugary-sweet venom in his voice is enough to make himself ill. A low growl sounds from the two children before him causing him to raise one slender eyebrow. Turning golden eyes onto the previously ignored girl he smirks like the snake he favors, and decides to strike lower.

 

“Anko-chan’, and the voice isn’t quite his “you really shouldn’t frown like that it’ll give you wrinkles.” Faster then either of the teenagers can react he drops his disguise revealing his unaged face. “What da hell kind of shit are you trying to pull old man?!” Twelve year olds should be seen not heard. “It’s not a trick, not unless it’s one that can fool the Sharingan.” A glowing red eye stares dispassionately at him from Kakashi’s wary face. “It’s to be expected considering what we found in his ‘house’.” Asuma Sarutobi, one of the most unsentimental Konoha nin outside of the Nara and Abrume clans. Lovely. Grinning like a skull he is in Asuma’s face before he can blink smacking a glowing palm into the boy’s chest. The jack-of-all-trades screams and collapses eyes rolling into the back of his head. “Asuma!” “You bastard!” The other ‘hidden’ nins appear; all of them are foolishly focused on him.

 

Jali as unimpressive as he looks isn’t one to ignore. Two of the newly revealed nin suddenly fall face forward rapidly expanding holes in their backs. A sizzling sound accompanied by the smell of cooking meat is the only activity for a moment before the sun is blotted from the sky leaving the combatants in darkness. When it finally clears Jiraiya, Jali, and the two corpses are gone. ‘Fuck!” The little, white basket lies on its side flowers scattered across the ground among them is a single, thick letter addressed to no one.  Jumping away as fast as his men can keep up with Jiraiya turns to his previous informant, red eyes stare back at him - “You know you’ll have to stay with me now, right? Besides which I’ll need a new method of communication with Fuguku.” With his red eyes and that smirk on his face Jali doesn’t look so unimpressive anymore. “Use snakes.”

 

It turns out to be an excellent suggestion, since he owns the snake contract now having defeated Orochimaru and the Uchiha have long held sway with serpents. The missives continue building an ever larger stance against the Uchiha clan. This will be the store he draws from later on in regards to Itachi. In the meanwhile he learns of Arashi’s reign as Hokage, learns the plans the clan has for the prodigy Itachi, hears of the Hyuuga clan’s prodigies and how well the information he gives the Hokage is utilized. Most importantly he learns that the Anbu agent Windfall a.k.a the Lesser Phantom steadily gains stock in Konoha for his aid in the current Great War. That will be important come time for his return to Konoha.

****

** OAK - September 14th, less then a month ‘til the Kyuubi attack. **

The mountains are truly majestic this spring morning. The scent of fresh soil and growing things is almost enough to overcome the stench of freshly slaughtered villagers. The Master seal throbs faintly between his shoulders as it should. The danger of summoning any demon is great; the danger of summoning the Kyuubi is astronomical. _‘You are a fool’_ whispers the voice he shouldn’t hear. ‘And you are a monster who died now go away.’ The baby he holds will not live beyond the next month when he transfers the demon to Naruto. Calm green eyes stare up at him as he rubs its fuzzy little cap of golden-rod hair. “You’re a hero of Konoha little one - thank you for your sacrifice.”

 

Staring down a demon while performing complicated hand signs was never a subject covered in the academy. The child is wailing, the ground is quaking and soon dozens of shinobi will be making their way here because you cannot, **cannot** hide this much power. He feels a burning, a tugging at his soul and clamps down on the desire to yield to forces he doesn’t understand. Having forced time to yield, having forced death once before to yield he will not lose now. From miles away in Kumo, in Konoha, in Ame a beacon is seen piercing the sky as Jiraiya the Last screams his defiant soul to the heavens. Drained and barely conscious the white-haired boy draws the infant to him cursing the lost of his hedge as his deputy Jali begins barking orders.

****

** October 9th, the day before the original Kyuubi attack. **

Wearing the older face of a child he killed years ago Jiraiya walks into Konoha holding a swaddled baby amidst the swaggering caravan. Hours later he jumps over the northwest wall carrying a swaddled baby its mother brutally butchered a strangled babe by her side red blood standing out starkly against the bleach-white floor. The baby he carries sleeps fitfully struggling to breathe having arrived prematurely though not so much as to make a real difference. Three hours of travel see the man entering a devastated village one of many now. His snake summons are razing countless stretches of land his own men atop their darting heads in order to give truth to the lie he’ll spin tomorrow night. The lie he’ll spin with help from the young men on his right, ill-gotten bastards of the Kurama clan with all the strength, skill, and ability without any of the moral hang-ups. Just as he raised them. _‘Should they call you Orochi-sama?_ ’ 

 

“I’ve never seen you without whisker-marks.” A sweet, normal baby… “Jali is it finished?” The whippet-thin sharingan holder nods briefly, “Hai, Jiraiya-sama.” A man who could easily be Jiraiya’s exact twin steps forward. His eyes are clouded though he walks with purpose, his hands steady as he reaches for the infant held by Jiraiya. Jali lays the older whelp whom they’ve been calling Taiyu down on the ground within the great blood seal. Quick as a whip he draws out a kunai and stabs it downward into a tender throat. The sleeping babe’s eyes fly open even as a dark red begins to bleed into them. The changing stops as the eyes dilate into a solid wet black.

 

A sound like the world being torn asunder heralds the escape of Kyuubi. Even as the area becomes saturated with malevolent, red light that burns all who stand too near the false Jiraiya performs the Fourth’s jutsu before calling out it’s name. There is a sound too terrible to describe and then Naruto is screaming as the false Jiraiya falls jointlessly to the ground his visage returning to that of a non-descript jounin from cloud. Taking up the child who burns with chakra and youki the time-displaced shinobi barely notices the body being taken for modification. Instead Konoha’s Phantom traces the newly appeared whisker-scars with a smile, “There you are Naruto, I’ve been looking for you.” The baby continues to scream while the evidence of this rite are destroyed and preparations are made to relocate.

****

** OAK ~ October 10th, day of the Kyuubi attack **

Four am on a Thursday morning with dawn two hours away, the city is in mourning for the wife and child of the Hokage. A single whistle from the bank of trees low and piercing cuts through the air. Suddenly a feeling like panic blankets the city as a false dawn appears on the horizon. The aurora of red draws closer and close still the killing intent it radiates blanking knife-edge minds of all techniques and stragems, overriding all training. Sirens sound and efforts are made for an orderly removal of women, children, and all unable civilians. All medic-nins, doctors, and nurses head toward the hospital for orders of placement and the orphanage locks down, it’s wards led down the granite stairs to it’s bunker like basement.

 

Jiraiya carries the Yondaime on his shoulders toward the border and a rendezvous with Sakumo. The Kurama brats can handle the simulation it’s all they’ve been trained in for the last four years after all. People will die, buildings will fall, the Yondaime will ride to the rescue and die leaving the infant Naruto as his legacy. Behind him a particularly large explosion lets him know that Jali and the summons are having entirely too much fun. Hopefully they’ll stick closely to the script. Ah, but snakes are difficult to control especially around blood and fear. Sensing fast-moving signals heading in the direction of Konoha from Suna he pulls the hood higher over Arashi’s blonde head and summons three large toads to kill the nins least they ruin the genjutsu.

****

** October 11th 5:34 a.m. **

The Yondaime is dead his life-less body found by the Anbu agent Windfall. In his arms was found the infant Naruto Uzumaki whom no one save Jiraiya knows is the son of the Fourth. The Sandaime, speaking from a conviction born of a conversation that never occurred, foolishly informs the populous that the nine-tails resides in the belly of this infant. They are understandably upset and move to attack and kill the child. As a result of this incident the Third’s law is passed preventing mention of Naruto’s jinnchiruki status to him or anyone of his generation. Still the boy’s life will be hard, as seen when it is from Windfall’s arms across the way that the boy is taken to watch his ‘father’s’ funeral. ‘Ero-sennin, I’ve never liked chrysanthemums.’ The purple flowers float away down the river as the child watches preternaturally still. His eyes are a lovely shade of lilac. Hiashi’s wife lays a gentle hand on her swollen belly a line of worry upon her brow.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah that’s a funny place to end it, but I had to stop somewhere. This is the point where things will slow down. What would have been one chapter might now end up being three or more chapters. More over chapter size will most likely increase, but the chapters themselves will not jump around as much time wise as these prior chapters have. Expect huge plot twists and some out of characterness. Jiraiya isn’t evil, but he’s not a good guy like say Gai or Lee. The Jiraiya of this story is morally ambiguous. That’s all I’ve got to say except the story will most likely only get darker from here on in.
> 
>  
> 
> Next time in Chapter Four:
> 
> A Kage arises, Akatuski arrives, Wars blaze


	4. Chapter 4

** Year 0AK November **

In the nowhere land between Kumo and Konoha lies a tableaux of battle lost. This will be the final trigger of the Three Year War. Bodies mutilated beyond recognition lie amid the rubble left by jutsu in a mud made of equal parts clay, blood, and the juices of putrefaction. A murder of crows sits above them watching and waiting as two of their number travel to Kumo and Konoha’s Anbu agencies to inform them of the deaths. Neither side will be able to explain, neither side will wait to listen  - in two weeks fighting will break out, fighting Konoha has been spoiling for since the first Cloud nin’s body was found in Fire country after Kyuubi’s emergence. Though Jiraiya plays a complicated game, he couldn’t care less right now about what’s happening.

 

Indeed as the gears of war turn ever faster in the eastern countries Jiraiya, sans his hedge, stares down a force he should by all rights stand no chance against. He has “wandered” into the greatest, and in his timeline, the last clash of Mist’s civil war. Whoever wins here, wins the ruler ship of Mist. Having plans for Mist, and not a lot of time, he plans to crush these fools before him. “Oi brat! What do you want?” The silvery-haired youth smirks as one slender eyebrow rises high not knowing just how much he resembles his Inuzuka kin right now. ‘Hn, hook-line-and-sinker.’

 

“I forget people are so quick to judge when I don’t wear my mask. How about I put it back on?” Closing his eyes, he can feel his hedge click back into place. Now he towers above half the forces here; his long, unruly hair cascading down his back, facial tattoos prominent on a face somewhere in its mid-thirties, early-forties a face he never seemed to grow out of in his old timeline. Opening his eyes he takes in the gobsmacked expressions before him - apparently his fame proceeds him. “Hey, is a stupid hedge suppose to scare us?!” Or not.

 

Seconds later the loud mouth is dead and whispers debate whether or not he really is Konoha’s Poltergeist. He almost pouts missing his old titles of sannin, Toad sennin, Icha Icha’s writer or heck even ‘that old weird guy’. Oh, well. The whispers stops as a taller man steps out of the amassed shinobi the number two embossed on his armor the only indication of his status. The Niidaime is a tough, ornery-looking bastard only a little younger perhaps then Sarutobi. “Alright, look here brat”, he says totally missing Jiraiya’s blank face and twitchy brow. “I’ll give you to the count of ten to run after that I’ll put you down like the gaki you are, got that?” The senile old biddy actually begins to count as the crowd around them begins to snicker and then laugh.

 

The laughter stops abruptly as the Mizukage finds himself struggling to keep Jiraiya’s hand from crushing his throat. “Why’d you stop counting little man? Is this ‘brat’ too much for you?” With a burst of chakra-enhanced strength, the old man pushes Jiraiya off him. Glaring at each other, they vanish from general sight. Explosions and flashes occur in rapid, random fashion as the gazes of those present dart about seeking them. The Niidaime’s voice is heard to call out “Water Release: Gates to the Maelström!” The air and earth become suna dry as violent chakra-infused streams rip through the area snatching up the unaware and slow from both sides as they attempt to catch the interloper. “Summoning: Supremacies Awakening!” The water stops and begins to spin it’s self into a rude construct of a dog. The scarecrowish thing begins attacking the men at its feet resubmerging the field into the chaos it was before Jiraiya interfered.

 

Within the confines of his superior speed Jiraiya gives only passing notice to the men dying - it is only when the fog begins to roll in that he worries. With visibility almost nonexistent, he slows down to a more human speed before coming to a stop. ‘I should have known they’d pull something like this. That’s why I didn’t sense them before.’ The Mizukage stands back to back with him his approach almost unnoticed. “Well whelp, now the mangy dogs come in after their misguided men have been slaughtered by you and I.” The Swordsmen of Mist - fewer now since Zabuza is long gone and Kisame has found better prospects. Only four but at least one is at Kage strength and all are near sannin strength with their swords unlocked. Even worse, they have the silent style on their side. ‘Shit.’ The mist is thickening even as the sky overhead darkens. Men begin to scream as unseen blades cut them down. The ground swells with blood.

 

“Old man I leave you to deal with this as you will, however understand if you survive this I will kill you.” The leather-skinned man’s laughter rings out like a struck bronze gong his eyes a gleam with bloodlust. “Aye, and if I die by your hand I pledge my badge and my men to you the Sandaime of Mist. That is oath by blood.” Simultaneously they vanish - the one into the mist, the other deep underground protected by his Doton supremacy. Stretching his Suiton supremacy, he attaches himself to the fog and quietly alters it so that soon men are all, but dropping like flies from chakra exhaustion - including the creators of the fog. Immediately the jutsu is canceled or at least an attempt is made to cancel it, but Jiraiya controls it now. Concentrating he condenses it into roving bands he targets at the swordsmen knowing the jutsu is fragile and will not hold them. It will however corral them long enough for him to finish his next jutsu. ‘Seeking Retribution: Corpse Puppet Technique.’

 

Totiro dispatches another one watching in disgust as the severed torso lifts it’s self on its hands and tries again. A severed hand leaps at his face forcing him to slide back into a waiting pit. Quickly he replaces himself with a log only to wonder what the hell is going on. No one has this kind of control - no one. “Living World: Devour!” Despite himself, Totiro feels himself falling asleep. The darkening sky is suddenly replaced by darkness. Beyond the field figures in red and black watch unseen or noticed as the giant face that devoured the armies flattens back into a 2-d picture and then vanishes. Upon the newly cleared ground Jiraiya appears. Once again his hedge has fallen. ‘Shit, why do I even wear this thing?’ “You - you monster!”

 

Not bothering to turn around the time-traveler speaks, “Shut up. Don’t speak of things you don’t understand. They aren’t dead yet.” The suppressed energy signatures on the hill beyond them picks at his nerves. The oddness there has to be Sasori’s signature and the fluctuating flicker he recognizes as Kisame. Kisame can’t have been with them long, so there has to be another member around here somewhere. ‘Shadow Clone Jutsu.’ A lesser clone forms underground and begins to search. “Enough. Release our comrades and we will let you leave.” A big man, broad of shoulder with bright orange eyes. ‘Kakraku clan.’ Behind him, his teammates roll their eyes. ‘Gee, he’s popular.’ “I thought all bloodlines were put to death or exiled Mizukage. How then did this one make it into the Swordsmen?” The old man drops his illusion as three hands tighten sporadically upon their swords. “How could I kill my own son?”

 

The Kakraku man bows his head rust-colored hair covering his embittered face. “You aren’t my father old fool; you’re just a stupid old relic soon to suffer and die.” Drawing his blue-tinged blade he chants - “screech Kori-hime, devour all infidels.” The bluish-black blade shatters into two-inch shards with a sound like singing they begin to spin dizzily. _‘It’s a laser.’_ Watching the shards gather energy and speed Jiraiya suddenly ‘knows’ what a laser is and just as suddenly he knows thing are about to get messy. Calling on his speed, he avoids the flash that would have decapitated him. A foot-thick rock serves to take the next hit. Meanwhile the Mizukage shows a measure of agility that would make Enma envious.

 

‘Time for an old one.’ Not needing the seals with the supremacies open, Jiraiya stomps his foot turning the ground to swamp - acidic swamp. Someone calls out a ground-raising jutsu only to fail. The others, Mizukage included, try to stand atop it discovering (much to their displeasure) that the swamp also drains chakra. Now they are left cursing and hopping about like toads in a skillet. ‘Thanks for this one Naruto!’ “Shadow Clone: Jumping Sniper Technique.” Twelve dozen, low-yield shadow clones cover the area all smirking superiorly. Abruptly they blur away as one of the other swordsmen releases his sword at them - “banish their arrogance Niwahaame!” A sudden rain of knives showers the area. Where ever and whatever the knives strike an eruption of stone occurs. Soon the four Mist natives play a deadly game of tag upon them.

 

Jiraiya switches with another clone getting close enough to draw fire from the brown-haired Nin with Niwahaame. Trading with a distant clone, Jiraiya fires off youkai-laced hair needles at the female near him. She counters with her short swords. “You’ll have to do better then that!” The former pervert smirks as suddenly her swords shatter like cold, brittle glass leaving her nigh defenseless. Clapping his hands he thinks, ‘Water Release: Shark Missiles.’ If nothing else that will keep her busy while he goes after laser-boy. “Stand still and die old man!” Missing a few hairs Jiraiya shakes his head, ‘kids these days so impatient and rude.’ Again, he sends energy-tinged hair needles toward the target watching them deflected with ease. Before the arrogant swordsmen can speak, he is screaming as the energy matrix created by his sword fragments distorts around him.

 

 _‘A miniature black hole? You aren’t nearly as stupid as I thought.’_ Grimacing at the damn thing’s backhanded compliment Jiraiya watches the Mizukage’s bastard inverted as the matrix implodes. He’ll never get that scream out of his head. Oh, well. ‘That’s two with one of the four dead underground already.’ Three really as the desperate kid with Niwahaame draws on energy he doesn’t have and falls face-first from chakra depletion into the acidic swamp. Thankfully, he sinks fast taking the sound and smell of his dissolution with him. Now only he, the Mizukage, and the woman who should become the Sandaime of Mist remain. She seems to have recovered as she holds a new, longer sword before her and shouts - “stand that our enemies might fall: awaken Suijo!” The damn thing becomes a bloody huge serpent - _‘leviathan’._ Sadly, he had hoped not to have to resort to this - “Echo’s origin: Summoning Kikuningyo.”

 

Now a man a little shorter though far more slender then he stands beside him. Barely glancing at his summoner the ‘man’ loses his substance as a shape begins to take form behind them. Quickly Jiraiya dismisses the now useless swamp. Now there stands behind him a great white fox complete with five full tails and two ghostly ones. Pushing chakra into his legs Jiraiya jumps to land on his summon’s head. He nearly apologizes for dirtying its fur, nearly until he remembers it’s partly this thing’s fault he’s suffered so much. A single mammoth copper eye rolls up to glare at him. **“What now Inumaru? A leviathan, even one so small as this, is dangerous.”**

 

Fighting back a yawn and a curse Jiraiya settles cross-legged on the warm, furry head. “Hmm, I don’t know… Think Manda wants to get in on this?” The bone-jarring growl he receives belatedly reminds him that snakes and foxes don’t really get along. Hmm… Gamabunta is out of the question seeing as Jiraiya only wants rumors not hard evidence of his actions today. “Oh.” Briefly connecting to his mount’s mind, he describes his strategy. As he is about to implement it the Niidaime’s summon appears. It’s a crab - an ungodly huge crab. It clicks its claws at them.

 

If Jiraiya’s first summon weren’t a toad he’d have been on the ground laughing with Suijo’s handler as it is he sweat drops with Kikuningyo and Suijo. ‘A crab… a freakin’ crab… Oh well, better then seagulls…’  “It has armor at least.” And big meaty claws. The damn thing blows bubbles as the Niidaime yells at the still laughing swordswoman below. The fox and the leviathan share a look before they attack the crab. In doing so, so recklessly they make a slight miscalculation - the damn thing is fast, especially with its claws - one comes just short of snipping off Kikuningyo’s adorable little head.

 

“Geez, I didn’t know crabs could move like that!” The fox sweat drops, sometimes the similarities between this idiot and the younger moron are staggering or really depressing… whatever. **“Shut up and make some oil so the worm and I can cook this thing!”** Pouting the hundred and forty-one year old baby complains, “Geez you’re rude foxy, couldn’t you have at least said please?”

 

Watching the sannin and summon attack together Kisame all but salivates. This man and/or creature has decimated three swordsman as well as two armies and now he is standing up against both a kage and one of kage-level along with their summons. “I wanna fight him. Please can I, can I **please**?!” A large shark-like man hopping about like a child while trying to effect puppy-dog eyes is an odd sight indeed. However, Sasori a puppet-man of infinite patience has long held a deep, abiding relationship with strangeness.

 

“No Kisame, we are here to observe and perhaps extend an invitation into our association. However, if you behave I may allow you a skirmish or two on the way back to base.” A large, shark-like man jigging about like a one-legged lumberjack drunk-off his ass is… Well really, there are no words for it. Suddenly a great puff of smoke and a rumble that nearly throws Kisame off his two left feet signals the defeat of the crab summon. A tiny figure can be seen plummeting headfirst toward the ground.

 

The figure plunging rather recklessly toward the ground is of course a rather parboiled Mizukage. Having resigned himself to a sudden forceful re-introduction to the ground he is understandably surprised to feel himself held in a pair of slender arms. Opening them as best he can his eyes find themselves looking into the bulbous pair of a large toad, frog, thing. Even saved from a painful reunion with the earth he is obviously not long for this world as well as in a great deal of pain. “Look here frog-boy; get us up to your master, I have an oath to fulfill before I die.” Not being any sort of genius, but understanding honor the aquamarine summon launches himself a top the fox’s head. Jiraiya is trying to get at the rightful Sandaime and so is understandably kind of short with the poor beast. “What damnit?!” The Niidaime takes charge trying to frown, “I don’t have time for your foolishness boy! Now kneel down!”

 

“Huh?” If it wouldn’t have hurt so much the dying man might have snorted as he rolled his eyes. “Idiot, bend down so I can complete my oath and die.” Shocked, but kneeling Jiraiya tries not to recoil or look away as a raw, skeletal claw traces a kanji upon his brow. Fingers pressed firmly to the center of the tracing the Niidaime chants an odd, rollicking stanza. There is a distant sensation of burning and then nothing as the quivering hand falls away. “Alright, now kill me you poor excuse for a shinobi! Honestly, what kind of fool bastard never finishes his kills?!” If it wouldn’t have been so disrespectful he’d have frowned, instead the sannin’s wistful smile is a perfect match to the bloodstained one the Niidaime wears. The ornate knife he holds quivers slightly in his suddenly numb hands. Blood is blood, yet somehow that’s never comforting. “Sir?’ the forgotten frog speaks, “There is a mark on your forehead.” The old bastard kept his word; Jiraiya is the third.

 

“Interesting.” Sasori ignores thoughts of home and betrayal. The smell of ozone in his nose and the taste of sand on his tongue. “What?” Kisame typically clueless beyond thoughts of random violence. “That man is your new Kage - aren’t you proud?” Ignoring Kisame’s squawking the suna puppeteer watches Jiraiya the new Mizukage complete another jutsu. ‘This will pretty much tap me for a while.’ “Measured Progression, I Reject.” Everything within 50 kilometers stops. Moving fast Jiraiya is slicing the woman’s throat. “Sorry.” Quicker still, he has the ground give up the men he sequestered within it. With the speed, he has become famous for and the photographic memory forced upon him he flashes through the unconscious slitting the throats of the most ardent believers while sparing the middle-roaders and the war weary. These will be the basis of his mist natives’ support.

 

With less then a minute to spare Jiraiya retakes his spot on Kikuningyo’s head as the demon weaves a tight cloak of invisibility. The temporal jutsu collapses and immediately Sugoi deactivates and falls toward the ground as a ‘normal’ katana once more. The shinobi below awaken to devastation and confusion surrounded by their slain comrades. As they stare confused at their radically altered surroundings an outcry begins when the Mizukage and swordsmen are found slain or not at all. It is now Kikuningyo drops the cloak its oppressive force driving the assembled to their knees. Konoha’s Poltergeist kneels upon the great beast’s head the mark on his brow blazing. In a voice that brooks no contest he roars, “I am the Mizukage and I declare this civil war at an end!” Beyond the cheering crowd, the watchers vanish to report to their superiors. Further south a messenger hawk is released. Two minutes later, it is shot down.

 

** Year 1 AK Hidden Mist Village **

‘Why did I ever wish to be Kage?’ The paper work is obnoxious to say the least, the more so because of all this civil war business. He has established a council as well as a kind of ‘vice-president’, which takes some of the pressure off, but still. More over messengers continue to arrive from the various villages and capitals. Messengers who often left shaken and confused by their encounter with the “young” Mizukage. “Kabuto” smirks ruefully at how useful the long-dead infant has proven to be. His long, silver hair cascades over his face as he rests his palms against his temples. “Lala stop lurking in that corner and tell me what you want.”

 

Lala all of fifteen and a better fighter then men twice her age, weight, and height steps into the light, her grey eyes gleeful. “Mizukage-sama, the delegation from Konoha is here.” Of course, it’s to be expected Kumo arrived just yesterday seeking a non-aggressive pact, so Konoha was bound to be behind them. As well as Arashi and Sakumo were doing in the guise of Windfall, Konoha’s forces were still taking a beating. “Fine, get Tali and jiji-sama and meet me at the conference room.” As she vanishes, he checks his hedge and suppression seals. No one outside of the council knows who truly runs things right now. All the outside world and most of Mist really know is that the Niidaime is dead, the swordsmen have been defeated, and the civil war is over. Everything else is a carefully constructed web of conflicting rumors. With rumors as they were it’s no wonder Konoha and Kumo took so long to check-in neither side sure of Mist’s present loyalties if Jiraiya is actually involved.

 

Affixing a dummy set of glasses to his face Kabuto heads towards the council room a pleasant smile upon his face. Jali his ever-present shadow almost quivers with tension. “Step carefully Jali, I don’t need you fucking this up.” The suppressed bloodlust all but vanishes in obedience. Smile a little broader, a little realer Jiraiya looks over the delegate auras he can feel. One is surely Kakashi’s - bright blue with silver flecking, calm while still burning. Another is the smoldering grey of Asuma; that one bright and confident is probably Gai; those quiet ones would be Ibiki and Shibiki glowing motes of ash blue. There is one more very familiar - Hiashi a calm, constant pillar of questing light. Hiashi here means Hizashi is somewhere near.

 

“Where the hell is this guy?! How dare he keep us waiting?!” Anko has never been the best at simple surveillance. “We aren’t being kept waiting, the official delegates are - now be quiet. If something goes down we need to be available, not fighting our own opponents.” Hizashi is being calm, cool, calculated and inwardly panicky that Hiashi is in the middle of a death trap. On the other hand, Jiraiya could be here and rumor has it that **he** is the third Mizukage. Rumor also has it that he can summon more boss summons then Gamabunta. Either a great serpent-like thing or a multi-tailed fox. ’Jiraiya what have you become?’ Beside him Anko scratches her head with a grimace on her face, “Wish I had some fuckin’ dango.”

 

‘Must be serious, must not whip out Icha Icha Paradise.’ Kakashi is slowly going into withdrawal, this is the newest and so far most explicit volume and he isn’t reading it. ‘Damn diplomacy.’ Across the table from him, Hiashi is going into Ai Ai Alt. withdrawal - ‘What could a phone possibly be used for in that situation? What?! I need to know!’ Ibiki ignores them both concentrating on the presences he can sense watching them. ‘There are four beneath the floor; two hidden in the ceiling and three more in the walls. That’s nine high chunin to low jounin level signatures.’ Leaning his chair back on one leg as Kakashi’s hand begins to twitch the young man notices five more signatures approaching and one of these is at least sannin level even with tight repression of its chakra.

 

Ibiki opens his eyes as the door opens and the group enters. A girl - young fragile-looking and half-naked, sandy-hair with bright green eyes. Two guys one at least fifty, the other maybe mid-thirties both have black hair and eyes maybe related. The sannin-level man is a boy perhaps Kakashi’s height with light metallic blue eyes, grey hair, and a huge pair of glasses. Somehow, he manages to retain an atmosphere of dignity despite the huge spectacles. The strange young man smiles pleasantly at the assembled. The two guards exit closing the doors behind them. “Good day gentlemen, my name is Kabuto Hiroshima. It is a pleasure to meet such illustrious men as yourself.” He takes a seat at the table as do his associates.

 

Hiashi takes point being the most experienced in politics, while Ibiki taking second seat casually observes. “Mizukage-sama we have three points to present today. The first is that of a non-aggression pact with you. The second is of your intentions as Mizukage and perhaps the circumstances surrounding your ascension. The third is whatever information you may have concerning the missing-nin Jiraiya.” Ibiki is amused to see Kabuto’s smile still firmly in place. No strain distorts it, but his energy output has risen significantly. The girl on his left fingers her knife. The smile on her face is disconcerting; she looks crazier then Anko ever has. The glares from the dark-haired men could be an Uchiha’s. “Hmm, okay - I have no information for you except of course that which everyone has. My intentions are my own, and yes - I agree to a non-aggression pact with you. However, the council as well as Tali here will have to go over any draft of such a thing.”

 

The Kohona-nins are somewhat taken back - Hiashi actually blinks; Kabuto is rather direct. “Ah, but - Mizukage-sama you must understand that Jiraiya-senpai is immensely dangerous and as such needs to be captured sooner rather then later.” Trust Gai to be nearly as blunt. Kakashi huffs as Asuma sucks his teeth. Kabuto’s smile is almost fond, “Ah, but - Gai-kun if Jiraiya is so very dangerous then surely you would be killing him as oppose to capturing him?” The men in the walls shift as Hiashi’s fingers flicker and Sharingan-Kakashi reaches for his forehead protector. “Kabuto-san where have you been hiding? So much power and still rising yet you aren’t even in the bingo book.” Eye fully revealed Kakashi sneers, “And that name, Hiroshima? I’ve never heard of such a clan.” The round glasses reflect the light hiding the ‘boy’s’ eyes and making his sadistic grin all the cooler, all the darker. “Funny, I’ve never heard of a Hatake with the Sharingan, so I guess we’re even, huh little man?”

 

Ibiki is holding Kakashi’s wrist; his grip is non-negotiable. “Mizukage-sama, I apologize for my comrade’s behavior. If we could possibly be allowed to retire before we begin further negotiations that would be appreciated.” With a tilt of the head Kabuto-sama is once again friendly, his eyes happy little crescents. “Of course, if you’ll follow Tetsuo”, a non-descript men emerges from the wall, “he’ll lead you to your quarters. While you are here I advise you not to pick anymore fights; that means you Tori-chan.” Before Kakashi has a chance to attack the grinning bastard is gone leaving nothing behind but his laughter.

 

Hizashi races across the strange mist-covered landscape ignoring the voice of reason that says chasing a possible SS-class criminal is insane. The little voice that says leaving his brother at the mercy of bloodthirsty Mist nin is a really stupid, totally dishonorable thing to do. A tiny voice pointing out that leaving Anko behind and alone in enemy territory is a disreputable act. However, his byakugan knows something is off with the kid. More importantly, Hiashi’s link with him sent along a feeling of shock and distress he hasn’t seen since Jiraiya-niisan left. Suddenly his feet hang unsupported in the air a large hand tight around his throat.

 

The voice behind him is an abomination- half ghost, half monster. **“By all rights I ought to kill you, but… I’ve already hurt so many of my precious people.”** Hizashi is released only to be snatched in a firm hug from behind. **“I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you both.”** Everything goes black. “Stupid idiot, rushing off and getting knocked out!” Anko? His head hurts too much to think and Anko is too concern with his head to be thorough in her pat down of him. As such, the letter in his pocket goes unnoticed for a while.

 

Meanwhile Jiraiya ditches his robes for non-descript jounin wear, his hair bound behind him. He wears no disguise aside from his own face and a very slight misdirecting genjustsu. He is already late from fooling around with Hizashi. He doesn’t want to kill him; moreover, he is a part of a bigger plan to get a hold of the Cloud’s two-tailed jinnchuriki. _‘Will you then hide her in the Mist? Even with your seals, summons, and powerful pawns Mist will be weak for a long time.’_ ‘I know this. Now shut up, I have to concentrate on dealing with these Akatsuki fools. This is one game of chess I can’t afford to lose.’ The Mist gives out onto a beachfront town, deserted save for the rowdy inn at its center.

 

“So when is this bastard getting here, yeah?” Breaking another drunken fool’s wrist Deidera is quickly tiring of this boondock town. In Sasori’s opinion, it’s his own damn fault if he’s hit on. Be a man if you want to be treated like one. “He will be here presently I can feel his presence in the net I wove earlier.” It was this habit of his that earned him the title of Spyder amongst the others. Well that and his way of creating plans within plans. Sasori never stopped planning, never stopped thinking. He looks up slowly as a young man enters the smoky bar dodging a thrown bottle with ease. He briefly nods at them from across the room before sitting down besides Sasori. Deidera whistles appreciatively. “Shit you’re fast; guess the stories are true on that score.”

 

Still the brat who by all rights should be older than either of the men beside him doesn’t look like much. “So, did ya? Kill them all, yeah? With a huge fox?” For a moment, the little bastard ignores him drawing occult symbols in the salt he has deliberately spilled across the scarred wood. When he’s finished he opens glacial eyes and says: “You’d do well to think before you speak. Even here, shinobi observe. That man over there was listening in rather blatantly.” ‘That man’ is slumped over the bar a very tiny spine in his nape. As they watch, it jerks once and then swiftly descends into the tender flesh. It’s a foregone conclusion that he will not be waking up - ever. “Shit.” Deidera eyes the ‘kid’ warily. Maybe the little pissant wasn’t someone to fuck with after all.

 

By the time Jiraiya has drunken his ninth full bottle of saké Deidera has declared him his hero. “So you do not age because of an event that is quote: “none of our goddamn business” unquote? Interesting. Are there any other areas we should avoid trespassing in?” Jiraiya drains the latest bottle before throwing it at the idiot howling in the corner. A solid thud is heard - twice. “Trust me, you’ll know if you’ve crossed a fucking line.” A beat of awkward silence passes. Standing the puppet-man slayer of Suna’s Sandaime presents Jiraiya with a ring and a large package. “It is doubtful you will ever be paired as your strength alone could easily challenge any of our present pairs.” Taking up his new vestments Jiraiya smiles - “Fine, I work best alone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Confused? Post a review for a personal reply.
> 
> For the record it’s only going to get more complicated from here on.
> 
> Next time in Chapter Five:
> 
> Negotiations, A return to the village, and Kakashi’s eye.


	5. Chapter 5

** Year 1 AK Hidden Village of the Mist **

Never let it be said that the Mizukage’s guards weren’t good at their job, cock-blocking idiots that they are. It has been a full week since the Sandaime - Hiroshima -spoke to the Konoha delegation or any delegation. This fact has led to several complaints. Some of the more violently inclined Cloud and Rain nin finding themselves in contempt and thus incarcerated. However, such a little thing as possible incarceration wasn’t going to deter Kakashi. Not after finding that letter on Hiashi’s person - all the more galling considering how close he might have been just earlier that day. ‘Tori-chan indeed.’

 

The only thing left to do after sending off missives by dog, insect, bird, and shadow clone relay aside from descending into the P.O. zone is to wring some information out of the Mizukage whoever the hell he might be. Of course, Kakashi would be just as happy wringing his neck. However, between the Mist council’s rush treatment of negotiation (Ibiki’s stalling non-withstanding) and the Sandaime’s Houdini aspirations it didn’t look like anything would get done before they had to return to Konoha. “I am not going anywhere until I see Kabuto!” A hand grasps Kakashi’s shoulder spinning him around.

 

A youngish man somewhere amid his mid-twenties stares down the irate fourteen year-old before him. “And who exactly is “Kabuto”? There is no one in this residence by that name.” Forgetting his training, forgetting his pride, ignoring the sheer stupidity of spouting off at an unknown shinobi, one who can sneak up on him no less, Kakashi responds with a nice loud, “Bullshit!” His rage is punctured seconds later when the man laughs brightly. “It is not “bullshit” little man. You have my word as Kawakarai Tanko the Yondaime of Mist.” ‘Shit. Nice one Kakashi, can you say diplomatic incident?’

 

Hands held before him as sweat runs down his nape he stutters, “But, but Kabuto was the Sandaime and he’s only like my age or something. What happened to him?” The Yondaime smiles tiger-lily eyes malevolent. “The Sandaime was Amebanzan Kunzankai of Mist and she died at the battle of Lowland defeating the Old regime. It is her we have to thank for Mist’s current progression into the future. Now if you excuse me, I have much to do.” Left speechless Kakashi watches the Yondaime walk away with his two guards. As they round the corner, he vanishes to tell the others.

 

A week later, the delegation streaks back toward the east almost eager to embrace the relative honesty of battle. They are uneasy however having received no replies to their missives. So much so, they must restrain themselves least they end up exhausted in unfriendly territory. Shibiki continues to emit a low humming a sure sign of agitation. He dashes forward to lope with Hiashi. “Hiashi-sama, why does Jiraiya-dono toy with us as he does?” The question is asked so quietly it is almost unheard. Still everyone listens intently. There is a profound quiet as they ghost through another patch of mist. When it is passed, Hiashi speaks. “Jiraiya-sama was my friend and brother, a feeling I still believe is reciprocated.” No one dares look at Hizashi and the marks still apparent on his neck.

 

Things are quiet again as they enter a pass; they are too close to a still angry Iwa. In time Hiashi speaks again, a small frown upon his brow. “In my time with him I feel I have gained some measure of insight of him. His devotion to Konoha and its people is without measure or doubt. Watching him wear himself out for Konoha is what motivated me and still does.” Before Kakashi can speak Asuma does. “He’s a strategist by nature so everything is a kind of game to him. He isn’t so much toying with us as he’s playing a game on a playing field entirely over our heads.” Hizashi snorts a hard smile on his face, “Yeah he’s a strategist alright and an asshole who loves pranks. A massively brilliant, hopelessly ruthless asshole of a prankster. Now everyone shut up so we can concentrate on getting home.” In contemplative silence, they race toward home and war.

 

‘You are soo cute!’ Naruto is an active baby with a sweet temper, however he is far more quiet then Jiraiya would like. “Is his caregiver taking good care of him? Should I have simply taken him with me?” Sarutobi leans wearily against the wall. “This is his home Jiraiya.” ‘And yours.’ The twilight dim nursery seems to drop quickly in temperature as Naruto snuggles closer to Jiraiya’s warm, familiar chest. “Not much of a home, is it little man?” They stay in their relative positions while Naruto settles down. Eventually the child is replaced in his crib. “So let’s have a chat old man.” The sick grin on his student’s face creates a frown on his own. “Yes, come to my office.”

 

This office never changed, well no. Its scent changed: tobacco exchanged for juniper and ink replaced by tobacco and age covered by sake and antiseptics. The feelings too; so loud sometimes they resembled color schemes. If the mood right now were a color, it’d be indigo or maybe the shading of summer twilight. He can feel the watchers waiting for him to misstep. It’s understandable since it’s already possibly he’s taken down a kage-level opponent, maybe two besides an army and four of the swordsmen. The clock ticks as Jiraiya watches the clouds stream toward a distant battlefield and Sarutobi watches his face. By the sannin’s count, there are five Anbu around this office besides five more at what should be the edge of his awareness. Strange he thought Yamato came later in Orochi’s career - shouldn’t he have never been created? Hmm, oh well it doesn’t matter really.

 

“Why?” A raised eyebrow. “Why not?” The shinobi formerly thought the strongest of all shinobi sighs his eyes closed tiredly. His wayward student fingers the rosary Hidan gave him. The jet-black beads remind him of all the sins he has committed in the name of ‘good’. “The road to hell is paved with good intentions.” His teacher eyes him intently, “Good? Is that what you believe?” Hidan is an odd man… and now they’re in the same boat. Immortal for all intentions and purposes. “Where did I go wrong to create such a thing as you?!”

 

‘Thing?’ The look on his face is a war between incredulous amusement and incredulous rage. It seems amusement is at the foreground. “I’ve got a better question for you - where did you go wrong with Orochi and Tsuande?” The bearish man stands his hands braced against the large desk before him. With nary a flicker his hedge drops revealing a man who still appears fifteen. At the same time, a great pressure fills the room. ‘His chakra! It’s - it’s unbelievable!’ To his credit, the old man doesn’t flinch even when no help immediately comes.

 

Jiraiya’s smile promises no mercy and plenty of pain if he is pushed much further. The time-displaced ninja knows where his sensei’s thoughts run. ‘This isn’t how things were supposed to go.’ But how dare this stupid old bastard call him a thing with the monster Orochi become and the bitch Tsuande was - is. “What are you thinking about?” The glaze of inner contemplation leaves the toad summoner’s eyes revealing a depth of bitterness that leaves Sarutobi stunned. ‘What happened Jiraiya?!’

 

The young man before him is nearly animalistic in appearance. Sharp, strong teeth gleam in a predatory grin. “I’ll tell you old man. You and this whole damn village are obsessed with names, bloodlines, and “geniuses”. Orochi was smart, too smart but you let him get away with murder because of it. We both know about the lab if Yamato being outside is any indication.” Before the Hokage can speak the Traitor of Konoha begins to chuckle darkly. Soon he’s laughing fit to burst his eyes leaking tears. “Worse then that Tsuande is the relation of “royalty” so you and the dumbass council spoiled the little bitch. Now you’ve got a corpse, a quitter, and me -the fucking traitor. Aren’t you proud sensei?”

 

That isn’t true, isn’t completely true. Unfortunately, it’s all close enough. Those considered prodigies or possessive of bloodlines like the Uchiha or the Hyuuga were set apart. Still he wasn’t… he was fair. Wasn’t he? He wants to say he isn’t the blind old fool Jiraiya paints him as instead he hears himself say, “Better dead or gone then a megalomaniac monster like you!” Now the pressure increases the chakra latent with a powerful bloodlust. So much so it’s a wonder no one else can feel it, that no one else is coming. “Fool did you think I couldn’t sense them?! That I wouldn’t prevent their entry?!”  ‘His voice is so cold, so soulless. This isn’t my student.’

 

Jiraiya stands before the window again. ‘So fast.’ “Am I a traitor Sarutobi?” As Sandaime, he cannot feel sympathy for such an obvious danger. As this man’s sensei, as a fellow human being he cannot help wanting to reach out to someone who sounds so sad. Somehow, though it’s hard to think past the need to survive. The boyish face is inches from his own. “Do you know any toad summoners besides myself? Who holds the snake summons contract other then me? What seals masters are there besides us? Maybe your age is finally getting to you old man.” Somehow, he’s able to speak, “What kind of games are you playing?”

 

The aged Hokage pants his face burning with shame at his weakness. The pressure, the chakra, the bloodlust are gone. So apparently is Jiraiya, but appearances mean nothing when dealing with Jiraiya. “What kind of games are you playing damnit?!” The voice comes from behind him and for all it’s sadness, all it’s composure it might have been the child he remembers. “…The kind where no body really wins. Call it life Sasuke. Call it life.” The clock resumes ticking as shouts arise. The door slams open jarring him from his thoughts. Sarutobi quickly looks down to hide the tears in his lavender eyes. “Hokage-sama are you okay?!” Giddy with the surrealism of it all he has to actually bite his tongue not to erupt in laughter like Jiraiya did. Even biting down so hard he swallows blood he can’t control the crooked smile on his face. “Okay? Hmph no, but that never mattered before.”

He knows Hiashi and Hizashi have instituted a procedure for his clandestine visits here. The minute his chakra touches the premises, every active byakugan is turned off or powered down drastically. He knows this in the same way the Anbu Windfall is known to show favoritism in protecting Hyuuga on the battlefield, and elsewhere. With the political clout, Jiraiya wields as Windfall the Hyuuga have gained a significant foothold in the political realm one they wish not to jeopardize. Besides which the majority of Hyuuga have never viewed the brash, vibrant prankster as anything but loyal. And God help the ones who disagree - they’ll be medical cases long before the Twins get to them.

 

Making his way to a certain building Jiraiya goes to check on his ‘niece’ Haranaru - Hizashi’s half-sister by clan law. Despite being a branch member, her mainline father loves her dearly and so certain allowances are made for her… and her chronic sickness. If Jiraiya ever came close to an uncomplicated love, it stemmed from his devotion to this little slip of a child. The affairs of the Hyuuga are the affairs of the Hyuuga. It is for this reason only that Anbu do not lie in wait for him here after the events in the tower. ‘Ah, she’s asleep.’

 

“No, I’m not.” Her huge blue eyes open wide staring him down, daring him to leave. “Where have you been uncle?” Still hedge less with one hand scratching the back of his head and the other in his pocket you’d think all the rumors were lies. He looks like an innocent kid you know? She smiles with a good-natured eye roll. “Get over here idiot.” Kicking off his sandals, he’s in the wide bed before she can blink. “Ah, so fast Jira-koi! I wanted to make this last!” The entirely overdone pout is ridiculous on her too young, too thin face. “Oh, it’ll last…” His patented pervert face does the trick of making her chuckle. The accompanying creepy laughter has her in hysterics.

 

“Hush! You’ll get me kicked out!” She ignores him opting instead to bury her giggles in his chest. Eventually her giggles subside into snickers and then quiet. They cuddle content to doze in the lull. The clock ticks quietly in the corner as footsteps tread quietly outside the door. They are carefully spaced and deliberately placed - the gait of an active elder. ‘Ama.’ “Howe are they treating you little girl?” The wisp of a girl snuggles closer, “fine… You’re so warm.” The arm he has around her shoulders tightens marginally as he forces his voice to be casual. “Am I little bit?”

 

Haranaru shrugs eyes still closed the blue veins stark against the bloodless skin. “Yeah, but then I’m always cold.” Just like she’s always sick. “Hmm.” The clock keeps ticking, time as an engine of perpetual motion. Haranaru is very frail beneath his hands. “Uncle?” Her long fingers trace wasp paths against his collar. The voice she uses is entirely too innocent. Raising an eyebrow, he waits her out. “Why did you leave uncle?” His own fingers are gentle in their tracing of her brow, her crown, the curve of her jaw. “Because it was a better choice then staying.”

 

The room is quiet only her trying to breath through what should be sobs with him almost humming a tone. Her fingers grasp his shirt and slowly begin to tighten. “Why?” From humming to offbeat whistling. “Because.” She’s looking him dead in the face pouting like a child despite being sixteen. When he smiles, she snorts and buries her pretty face deep into his chest. “I didn’t catch that.” Speaking louder she repeats herself, “because isn’t a reason”. He smiles his eyes happy little crescents. They are quiet listening to each other breath as the clock ticks. “It’s reason enough.” She doesn’t hear him, lying fast asleep on his chest. He lets her sleep releasing the mild genjutsu he placed on her. The ticking ceases. She won’t really remember this - it’s for the best. Ama pasts through again followed by the fast tread of a well-trained toddler. His signal to go as he eases Haranaru off him.

 

“Daddy, daddy!” Neji hops about his father. “Daddy, uncle came to visit.” Hizashi pauses briefly to pick up his son before continuing on as Neji prattles at him. “Uncle left ‘Nata a doll and me a puppet. He said that with my natural control I could be a brilliant puppet master. Can I daddy?” ‘Of course not the council would have a fit.’ “I’m sure you could little one. Did uncle leave anything else?” The little boy frowns and then brightens, “Yes. _‘The wind blows, the mirror breaks. The mirror glares, the moon is born of lake.’_ He said you’d ‘figure it out’ sooner or later. Can I practice my puppet now?”

 

One again Hiashi examines the not in his hand. ‘The wind blows, the mirror breaks. The mirror glares, the moon is born of the lake.’ He then thinks over the note Hinata’s doll held. _‘The wind speaks, the scarred plans. Reflections of plans crack.’_ ‘Who is the wind?’ The wind bows and speaks. The scarred plans. Reflections of plans crack while mirrors break and glare. The moon is born of lake. ‘The wind… Fukagu…’ Hiashi snaps his attention to his shadow. “Brother we have to keep a closer eye on the Uchiha.”

 

It’s late and his hands quake with fatigue and in-held rage. ‘It was you uncle. I should have killed you.’ The world tilts as he sets his kunai on the bedside table. “Hello, Hatake-san.” Spinning around he comes face to face with a man he has never met. He looks to be maybe only a few years older then Kakashi’s fourteen maybe seventeen or eighteen. “Who are you?” The intruder flashes a contemptuous smile as his eyes shift to sharingan-red. Three tomoes morphing into shuriken-like shapes. “My name is Itachi.” Faster then should be possible ‘Itachi’s’ hand holds him up against the wall by his throat. “Allow me to introduce you to my Mangekyo Sharingan. Tsukuyomi!”

 

They stand beneath a pure white sky. They don’t look too far apart in age. The younger practically vibrates with hatred, his hands sporadically clenching. “You bastard!” His voice is a low, dark whisper as he begins oozing a thick miasma of killing intent. ‘I can’t fight him like this. I have to control myself.’ Staring up at the sky, an overlapping picture of pink and white like carnations, he bites his tongue until he tastes blood. Jiraiya’s laughter doesn’t help, “You’re still just a child: a weak little boy born of a weak little man while I am a man. I am a sannin and the teacher of your former sensei.” ‘Former teacher, but sensei… sensei would hate him now.’ It’s not really true sensei would never hate Jiraiya no matter what he had done. “I hate you.”

 

The sky is grey as he stands on a small hill holding the demon brat who is quiet at least. He would like to strangle the damn thing would like to wrap his strong fingers around the small, pink neck. The entire village stands beside the river as chrysanthemum rain down upon a river the grey-blue of his eyes and the burning pyre that floats upon it. ‘Sensei.’ He holds the child closer to him trying not to recongize the pretty, blue eyes. Looking down he see they are lilac instead of blue and now he is holding the child under water watching the bubbles stream beneath the floating petals. He feels it stop moving and can’t feel anything until the spreading cold hits his belly triggering his vomit reflex.

 

“No.” The smell of vomit chokes him his mask a bagginess around his neck, dew soaking into his pants fabric. He feels weak, feels nauseated - it has to be a genjutsu, but it’s not one he can break. A foot connects with his face sending him spinning into a tree. Too fast - not even his sharingan can see - when did he reveal his sharingan? Can’t think-too fast. He can smell the pine sap from the damaged trees, the trampled needles. Can hear the needles underfoot see the world in tow-tone color scheme of red and true color. The black, white world a memory now. “Jiraiya was never this good, who are you ‘Itachi’?! And why are you wearing that traitor’s face?!”

 

The tall man laughs his white, white teeth flashing as brightly as his hair. “Traitor? Why because I killed a butcher?” The teenager is able to stand now trying to ignore the itching in his gifted eye. “Yeah, you slit his throat in his sleep.” Bright, white teeth like something from a fever dream, “Did I or did I?”  Kakashi sees confusion in the amber eyes and revels in it because in his hand is a sword. Is fascinated by it as the knife in his hand flashes. Exhales, holds his breath delivering the blow, the strike. The blood on his hand, on his chest, on his thighs. A pale face he doesn’t know staring back at him, a pale face frozen forever in hatred. His head hurts seeing two entirely different versions of the same thing and neither matches what he thought he knew. It’s all messy, bloody, and quite satisfying.

 

Kakashi vomits on the green, green grass beneath a white sky. The feel of cloth on his back calms him, his hands are still clean. He’s not- he’s not… “Monster.” The smirking man before him is not the cheerful uncle he though he remembered. “Says the brat who left his teammates to die.” He’s up before he knows it running heedlessly at the bastard who would dare, dare speak those words aloud. He’s on his knees again before he knows it. The newly entitled copy-nin squeezes his eyes shut in preparation, but nothing happens.

 

Opening his eyes he meets the crushed, eyeless face of his ‘friend’ and behind him he can still hear that long scream so far beyond anything simple flesh should produce. A soul scream he has been hearing everyday since Obito died and as the blood runs down his throat, he finally realizes it’s coming from him. Jiraiya stands behind him nudging the corpse at his feet, the brown-haired corpse named Rin. “I would’ve thought Arashi would do better then this - how disappointing. Oh well, at least you made it!” That heartless smile will never leave his mind. There is a burning in Kakashi’s stolen eye as he feels the need to destroy his tormenter sweep through him. Unthinking he pushes more chakra into his eye manifesting a third coma in it. Before him Jiraiya’s face seems to soften with something like pride. ‘Good work brat, but we aren’t done yet.”

 

The bloodlust is on him now and any lesser details like a godfather’s odd behavior is ignored. “You killed your teammate and dared to push this into my face?!” His voice cracks with emotion sharingan tearing up with rage. An elbow bashes into his teeth sending him flying. A follow up misses him however as his improved sharingan rescues him from the situation. “You don’t know anything kid. I killed Orochimaru for reasons you’ll never be able to wrap your head around.” At last, the fourteen-year-old smiles- ‘I’ve finally gotten under his skin.” “Really? Try me old man.”

 

A fist catches him in the temple laying him out on the ground badly stunned. Jiraiya, stands between him and the sky, the sun a halo behind him. He knows without looking that this is their old training ground. “Would you have preferred I let him live? To raze this village and kill the Third?!” They are at the old stadium a top a roof a purple box blocking Anbu. He is fighting his limbs pale and boneless. A hand is in his chest pulling him and sweat pours down his brow. The Sandaime is bleeding badly a sword through his chest, his hands clutching his shoulder hard enough to bruise. “Just die already!” Enma lies on the ground his hand bleeding badly as he grips the sword in front of the hilt. “I will take your precious jutsu.”, the monster behind the old man swipes down with its great knife. Sarutobi falls and all he can do is scream from somewhere inside his head.

 

On his knees again trembling, quaking as he stares at his hands not quite believing they’re okay. The cool voice behind him pebbles his skin. “Is that better? Ah, of course it is after all why shouldn’t the old bastard die? How is it right for that relic to endure when your teacher died? In your mind, it should be your foolish sensei alive while the useless old bastard dies in his place.” Abruptly Kakashi is on the rooftop again damning the old man with Orochi’s voice - damning him and meaning every word of it. He’s happy watching the old man’s face crumble as he summons the dead Hokages; glad somewhere inside that the old man stopped the last before the Fourth could see him. Pulling the Grass cutter through the Sandaime watching the life drain away, watching him fall again and again… Somehow, it isn’t as fun anymore - he realizes the Third isn’t his enemy. Screaming, he clenches his head as though to keep it in one piece; it hurts more so then the living brand where his eye should be.

 

The earth is white. He drools as his normal eye rolls up into his empty head. Jiraiya stands by him arms folded and eyes distant. He hears his own voice say, “I will kill you.” Inwardly he cringes knowing that is an incredibly stupid thing to say. The world is dancing as he stands panting like an overworked draft horse. “Can you?” The kunai in his hand gives no security. He wishes his hands would stop shaking. They both move, clash and it is instantly obvious who is the stronger of the two. Again and again and again, they engage and none of his hits are hurting much less killing his enemy even as he is coated in the life blood of his loved ones. He’s tripping over their slain bodies now screaming unintelligibly through his tears. He killed them; he knows he killed them all.

 

It’s strange; his headache is progressing into a virtual madness- on the one hand he is becoming berserk and on the other he is calmer then he’s ever been. Madness but it’s working - he is finally behind the old bastard is finally sliding his blade into him like the last perfect puzzle piece. ‘But I had a kunai not a sword. I had-I had-’ He slides the blade in and the white hair remains. The baggy clothes dwindle into silk and depression, but the white hair remains. Ignoring the changing body, the changing clothes he focuses on the white, white hair. Kicking over the body to see the face… “No.” He falls to his knees fingers digging into his skull. “Nonononono. No!!!” He can’t deal and the headache it’s like… It stops and he feels empty unlike his ‘gift’ and the world through it. “Congratulations Kakashi, you have achieved your own version of the Mangekyo Sharingan. What powers it contains you’ll have to figure out for yourself. Beware of who you let know about it, especially the Uchiha clan. I am sorry, goodbye.”

 

Exhausted still he reaches out to the man by his door. Kabuto turns around a strange look in his eyes. “You can’t just torture me and leave. At least tell me why, please tell me why.” The gangly kid comes back and sits down on the hardwood floor. Gentle fingers stroke his face before pulling the headband back over the sharingan. “When I leave you will fall into a three day sleep during which time you will be taught all I know about this form of the Uchiha bloodline.” He takes the hand Kakashi reaches toward his face and kisses it folding it in his. “As for why I did this I hope one day you’ll understand that what I do, I do for you and so many others. I can’t tell you more then that, except - do you know Itachi?” Sluggishly Kakashi shakes his head no - “He is strong, but even the strong can fracture if improperly used. When he fractures, when he breaks you will need these new levels. No go to sleep.”

 

Tucking the boy into his narrow bed along with the newest copy of Icha Icha Paradise he takes his leave. A year from now Itachi will be a gennin; six years from the he’ll slaughter the entire Uchiha with the exception of a Sasuke. That won’t change no matter whatever else he does; some things are immutable. Until then Hiashi and Hizashi will have to keep watch along with Kakashi and probably Sarutobi. That washes his hands of the damnable Uchiha, now he has to deal with Akatsuki and thwarting their plans without getting caught in the crossfire. “Man, the shit you get your ass into.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Confused? Post a review for a personal reply.
> 
> For the record it’s only going to get more complicated from here on.
> 
> Next time in Chapter Six:
> 
> Betrayal, Hizashi’s life, and Jinchiruki.


	6. Serial Prelude

**Year 3AK November**

 

Watching the sunlight dapple the ceiling Jiraiya hums as he counts days. Peace talks continue between Konoha and Kumo. As agreed Windfall shows neither hide nor hair. Kumo still demands his death as they will demand Hiashi's 'death' in a few short weeks. The kidnapping occurred the last week of December… December 27th if memory serves and amidst that misery, Konohamaru is born on the 30th just three short days later. Now then, he'll need to set up a stake out… Maybe kill a cloud nin and replace him - not like it'd be hard. Whatever, it's only November now summer just beginning to touch the earth, to quicken the blood. He'll need the time to find a quiet man to watch the flock while he goes first to work for Akatsuki and then to Konoha to change history again.

 

Stretching amid the enormous mess of sheets, quilts, and pillows on his low-slung bed he smiles. So far, no serious complications have arisen. The MOMO outbreak in the northern countries raged longer then it should have. His eyes close memory bringing back the stench of living, decaying flesh and smoke assailing his nose. Ten thousand souls lost when before it had only been four thousand and ten. A bronze clock rings somewhere in the house. Women's laughter drifts through the window. The Grass village is on its last legs and trade is more strained then he remembers. There are Grass nin in this village because of that and Gotou find's it easier then before to infiltrate and conquer. 'Makes it harder for the kid, better look into that.' Still, it's nothing too serious. Nothing a little time and energy won't straighten up alright.

 

Pari's feet slap loudly in the hallway bringing his breakfast again. He always oversleeps these days. Something about Taziyan is almost unbelievably peaceful. Maybe it's building something clean with his own hands. Maybe it's seeing smiles on the faces of men and women who have had nothing to smile about for quite some time. Or seeing bloodline children who don't have to fear using their gifts around neighbors. Something perhaps about building a sanctuary within Mist for it's hated bloodline carriers. Not that it was hard. Requesting for the right was a small thing to ask of the Yondaime, a bloodline carrier himself. It was an even smaller thing to ask of the daimyo a fearful man in need of guidance… and certain kinds of opium. A drug-dealer as well as murderer, a liar, and a possible traitor… _'How nice!'_

 

A last knock sounds before Kimimaro walks in with his breakfast tray. Pari's white head bows to him from outside the doorway. 'Tch, still too polite.' Her indigo eyes flash silver for a moment as she stands up and smiles at him. She will always be grateful to him, for with all her wrinkles and white hair he is the kindest man she has met in all her fourteen years. Kimimaro sets the tray on the bedside table with exaggerated care. His clan was the founding group of Taziyan. This child will grow with the village much as Sasuke Sarutobi did with Kohona. Yes, although Taziyan is a small village and will most probably remain so; it is strong and will only strengthen with time. Any who seek to harm it will serve only to advance its strength. 'Believe it.'

 

The child before him is studying him just as earnestly; it's understandable what with his pure white hair and mahogany-brown skin - all dyed of course. Good strong sewti dye guaranteed to stick even through the rain season. It is harder to detect then chakra maintained illusion especially as most would think to check for that now. He smiles, an interesting expression on his immature face - at least the villages are shoring up their defenses now. "Well good morning to you too Sunshine. Why are you bugging me now?" The little boy smiles at him looking as pretty as a picture. This child is nothing like the one Naruto, Lee and Gaara described. _'No wonder with his family alive and mostly sane.'_ Idiot fox. That's the last thing he wants to think about with Itachi losing ground by the day.

 

"You are going on a trip. I have never been anywhere, but here. I want to go with you and you will take me because you believe I have talent and much potential!" Valiantly the white-haired sannin resists the urge to sigh and/or roll his eyes. 'Will I never escape these precocious children? Everywhere I turn there's another one yapping at me.' Reaching into the open drawer beside him, he grabs his cigarette pack in total disregard to his unsolicited tenet's squawking. With an uber casual shrug Jiraiya speaks, "Fine brat, but don't get mad if I don't wipe you're ass every time you take a shit. I'm not your mother." Pari flinches from the hall as Kimimaro giggles like the seven year old he is. Lighting up a cancer stick the Leaf renegade nods toward the door telling the kid to get. "Oh, one other thing. Be sure to be packed by tomorrow morning - we head out at 5 a.m. So don't sleep late."

 

/+++\

 

It is November seventh and they are hiking through woodland, mostly spruce and pine. Its cooler then expected for a summer evening the sky hidden away entirely by the trees overhead. Sakumo steps carefully with the child on his back. The child that will soon be older then his own son was when he last saw him. The son he hasn't seen in seven years - almost a decade. The man is still as beautiful as always without his usually omnipresent mask. His expression is the one he wears before he asks a question. Perhaps like Kikuningyo he wants to know why they are bringing a child with them. Visions of smooth, pale skin and flower petals taunt him. 'Cut it out brainless fox!' A curl of heat traces its way to his crotch… 'Shit.' Maybe there's a stream around here.

 

"What would this child's life have been?" Nearly tripping, instead the ever over-dramatic toad sennin leaps into the trees over head. His brown face peers down from the branches like a curious wood sprite. It's not such a surprising question, but now isn't the time with work to be done and an observer too close for comfort. 'Damn Zetsu.' Ever since Sakumo was revived and told the entire situation he's been obsessed with cataloging the events as they came and were changed or left alone. Of course, he hasn't been told very much but he'd taken everything he could get with surprising poise. Most people didn't want or take well to being told they died a meaningless death. They reacted even worse to hearing their son died a violent, pointless death trying to save a village destroyed anyway. Of course, the still active Purpose seal helped, continues to help. 'Sakumo is gonna kill me when that thing is deactivated.'

 

Quietly he begins to move again. The air is cooling as the sun sets and insects begin to buzz. A town lies a mile or two ahead of them. The sooner he leaves these two there the sooner he can finish this job. "Well?" Still adjusting the pace and being mimicked perfectly by Sakumo he replies without pause, "Don't worry about it now, especially with the brat already half-awake." With these two secure in their room, the white-haired hundred and forty-four year old man tests his newest genjustsu on an unsuspecting worker in the hallway. She can't be more then fourteen, chest just beginning to form. He covers her mouth and turns her face toward the wall as he fingers her hurriedly. When it becomes apparent this won't work, he flips up her dress and begins fumbling with his pants. She squeaks and moans so that he's sure he could have got off on her sounds alone, _'So much for being reformed.'_ He leaves her mewling on the floor still ready for more action.

 

The container of the six-tailed beast is a hermit mystic. She could hit him hard without trying to if he relied on his normal tricks. Her monk based jutsus clashed horribly with his demon/summons based jutsu. Worse, they usually won. Worse still, she holds as much skill in seals as he does. Therefore, his new jutsus, his old jutsus, and his seals dominance are useless if not glaring liabilities. That left him with just one hope - his perverseness. She relied on sacred energy to offset her demon and those who would harm or use her. Sacred energy relies on abstinence from the three roots of sin - pride, lust, and greed. Tonight lust would be her downfall.

 

He makes excellent time soaring through the trees. Zetsu is a twinkling on the edge of his awareness. No matter how well they may hide, he and Zetsu's inner voices respond to each other's dichotomy giving away their positions. Still this is a kind of game they play knowing a time is coming when they will want to 'disappear'. Why dislodge the seeker you can see? Still it rankles that the Akatsuki' leader still has so little trust in him. Never mind that he plans to alter the Rokubi's seal and deliver her as a living bomb. Of course, that all has to wait until Zetsu leaves to feed his warring voices. Dawn isn't too far off; he needs to get the insomniac girl while she meditates to starve odd madness.

 

The woods thin becoming more ordered, more structured. Pine becomes Aspen, spruce dwindles to cedar. He stands shallowly breathing at the edge of a large clearing. A large, clear stone hums quietly in his hand. Touching it to his temple he mouths, 'Second Sight'. Throughout the clearing and the strange Indian-style temple uncountable runes blaze. 'Shit. Paranoia much?' Discontinuing the jutsu he begins to chant feeling the echo of youki within him curling into it's self. He feels heavy - shoved down by an immense pressure, but there isn't time to rest with five minutes as the limit on this technique.

 

With two minutes to spare, he pants on his knees by the entrance of the temple. Drawing a deep breath, he begins chanting the second stanza of this charm. Amid the now familiar pressure, he walks toward the secret steps he knows are there stepping around the glowing web work of runes and charms. Such a strange sensation walking between worlds. With less then a minute left he stands in the inner sanctum by the sinking stairs. Knowing this is the most dangerous part of his plan he summons Kikuningyo who appears as a small silver-blond boy with a gunmetal blue flute. Kikuningyo shall distract the awaiting and now wary Rokubi as Jiraiya descends chanting the last stanza. He will never remember the song Kikiuningyo played or when it changed into another. All he will know before the blood and lust is that he stood at the bottom in twilight swiftly forming seals: Break burst - Descent into Lust.

 

She fights; she is used to fighting for her mind. She doesn't look much older then his unhedged form although she is at least sixty. It seems to be a common thing among the higher-tailed containers. Already Naruto shows signs, never seeming to change, to grow. He doesn't know what she sees as she chants failing attacks and protections. He weaves more and more layers over the first drowning her strength and awareness beneath mindless lust. Her demon screams as it tries to take over, but Kikuningyo has turned this place - these words and bonds against it. Soon she gasps beneath him her eyes a solid liquid black. She is - was a virgin; he takes the inevitable blood and soaks four holy cloths. With them, he binds her hands, feet, mind and demon. It is too bad the seals and runes she has painstakingly carved throughout would warp any attempt he might make at altering her seal, especially as Zetsu (an impatient beacon on the horizon) cannot see down here. This place might yet come in handy for something. Carefully picking up his captive, he moves toward the stairs.

 

Tired he lets Kikuningyo chant as they run through the complex and across the clearing. The spirit remnant calls forth several lesser summonses. Zetsu's signature abruptly stops as Jiraiya and his bane pour on the speed pulling further and further ahead. Abruptly Kikuningyo winks out returning to the odd seal above Jiraiya's heart. The sky is a promise of blue by the time he nears the town and the hotel. Remembering an old favorite he and his captive breeze through the streets unseen. Sakumo waits by the window arms crossed and eyes dark. Jealous old bastard. It's still weird seeing him out in public without a mask. Still it's been years since the White Fang has worn a mask - he should be used to it by now.

 

Canceling the jutsu, he runs his hands through his hair. "Where's the brat? We need to be out of here by…mmm, now!" Sakumo points to the bathroom as Kimimaro  begins to hum. Jiraiya groans - the kid took longer than most women and this was now as a fuckin' seven-year-old. What he'd be like as he got older didn't bear thinking. Setting his catch on the bed Jiraiya decides to take a nap. First however he creates three shadow clones. Three shadow clones with evil smiles. Sakumo recognizes that look and shivers because of it. Jiraiya's cackling doesn't help. It stops abruptly as a familiar blushing face appears in the doorway - the girl from last night… 'Shit!'

 

/+++\

 

Zetsu is pissed. Deidera's snickering doesn't help anymore than Kisame fluttering about him with that damn camera. "Ah…so." Even the leader wishes to laugh - his black eyes twinkling brightly. "Jiraiya-sama completed the capture fairly quickly with no casualties or property destruction? Perhaps we should be giving Deidera's missions to him, eh?" That shuts the androgynous deconstructionist up. Sasori smiles at a neon-pink, be feathered, sparkle-drenched makeup wearing Zetsu making faces at Deidera. He also smiles at his assessment of Jiraiya being correct. Jiraiya has been a sound investment.

 

/+++\

 

They are in the middle of nowhere grey-blue water stretching to the east, rock-like beachfront stretching to the west. The sky is the solid white-grey of a blind man's eyes. Down the beach Sakumo chases little Kimimaro tickling him mercilessly when he catches him. The child's shrieks of laughter ring down the beach rivaling the breakers for attention. The cold pebbles her butterscotch skin, hardens the nubs of her nipples. The ink must seem very cool to her. "Are you sure you want to do this? You'll lose your body in the process." She smiles placing her index finger directly over his heart. "I'll be here, right? I'll be here until you can find me another body and I'll have plenty of company, yes?"

 

"Yes." Plenty of company. This is a nowhere place, a place where the world is thin. No one will come here and so he is at ease to alter her seal into the gate of maw that will devour the men of Akatsuki. There are twenty-seven; the leader, the nine hunters, the twelve acolytes, and the five scions. Beyond them are many lesser agents mindless drones working diligently toward their own destruction. He sets the brush aside as a splash is heard; Sakumo has been rudely introduced to the salt-grey waves. "Aah! You little brat!" Her eyes are bright with some emotion he can't decipher. "This is going to hurt - a lot. Try not to scream." Standing over her, he claps his hands once and touches her.

 

He stands panting sick to his stomach. Memories he's never had keep materializing before his eyes. He's an atrocity - like Arashi's Shingami he's eaten them all to remain forever in pain within him. Those other two hunters, half the acolytes and all the scions. He's taken her in as well and that's all that's keeping him standing Kikuningyo too busy battling the former six-tails. Its December 12th he has a week to get his shit together. It's alright he's close to Kumo already. 'Kesatero? Where is the nearest friendly town?' A picture forms of a city on a hill clouds beneath it. _'Fumihiko.'_ Two days journey northeast through gentle-grade land with plenty of caves for shelter.

 

Three days finds him devouring a family's meal as the parents rut on the floor while the children sing to persons only they can see. Civilians are weak, but this display shows how his powers have increased drastically. Nearly nine tails within him plus the power of the souls he has swallowed. Downing the rest of the sake bottle he found in the cupboard he realizes he doesn't really know his own strength anymore. His ring has yet to buzz him maybe the leader is dead and the group destroyed? No, because then the ring would have cracked. 'Less.' What possible meaning could that have? The oldest son suddenly claims his right to mount sweat glistening on his chest. His father bucks moaning beneath him. 'I ought to stop this.' The mother's hand grips his pants leg. Her eyes are blank. It's December 15th. He mutters a genjustsu that puts them to sleep. Slowly he moves to set things right.

 

/+++\

 

A week later, he twirls a pencil between his fingers trying desperately not to scratch his face. It'll peel off like rubber if he does. 'Orochi was sick, but he was smart.' There is a murmur of discontent in his head, they do and do not agree. "When we have the child we will release Hiashi from the initial stage of the genjustsu. The second stage will overpower his restraint so that he will act before he thinks. In this way, we will gain the Byakugan. Konoha has no stomach for further war; they will give us what we desire especially if seen in the wrong." Along with a few others, Jiraiya remains silent during the cheers and laughter. Too bad he can't be sure these others aren't just in his head.

 

Lying in the bed of the man he murdered beside his young wife the time-traveler goes over his team's plan. They will travel to Konoha with the treaty. After receiving a hero's welcome, they will wait 'til evening to cast their genjustsu disabling all the sentries and limiting the variables. One of them will get the heir- Hinata and then another will release Hiashi into the second stage. Thus Hiashi will become a scapegoat to be sacrificed to them. Brilliant. They will draw lots to see who will tempt Hiashi's wrath once they're in Konoha. That will require some trickery on his part, but not enough to matter. Konoha is better then it was, but still too soft on some things. Arrogance leads to Complacency.

 

The next day the delegates leave to the cheers of their people. Jiraiya waves happily at his 'wife' not yet knowing his child grows in her womb. Not too surprising when he believes himself sterile. She will name it after her father - Kazuma. That's all in the future, right now Jiraiya jogs along side the man who drew poorly last time. The overbearing sod blathers on about sex and women in a way that raises Jiraiya's hackles. "Oh, but what do you care? What with that pretty little girl at home, you can barely see to walk straight." No wonder he lost the lotto last time, they probably rigged the game just for him. "What can I say? I'm a really lucky guy." Unlike you asshole.

 

/+++\

 

Hinata bounces down the hallway sucking on her fingers. She's three and they're throwing her a really, really big party. Neji follows behind her studying another scroll on puppetry. The little girl rolls her eyes like the adults always do. "Neji stop! This is my birthday- let's have fun!" Her cousin really doesn't know how cute he looks when he frowns. Kind of like a constipated dolly. "Puppets are fun. You just don't understand the inta-inta-lec-u-al pleasure is all." She swats him on the head and kisses him on the cheek, "Stop using big words afour you choke on them." Laughing at his expression, she swats him on the arm. "Tag - you're it!" Still dumbfounded Neji watches her take off. Blinking he drops his scroll and chases after her. Hizashi picks up his son's scroll as Hizashi smiles for the first time today. "Hn, you'd think they were twins." Their laughter warms the compound.

 

/+++\

 

Kakashi casually eyes the delegates from behind his porcelain mask. There are no genjustsu in effect right now. Just to be sure however Kurenai stands in as an Anbu over by the far corner. The Kumo nin are better behaved then he would have thought. Their leader seems to be a rather non-descript nin named Takakata Abe. His long white hair picks at a nerve its true. "Good morning, let us sign this treaty and finally, finally end this blasted war." The tension level drops as all present agree. As the monotonous political bullshit begins, Kakashi like most of the experienced Anbu relaxes into a state of semi-aware consciousness. In other words he stops listening and starts daydreaming.

 

_Today is the most important day of his life…Tiptoeing quietly he sneaks up on the unsuspecting man. With the speed and accuracy of an arrow he shoots at him - only to be snatched out of midair. "Sorry brat better luck next time." Pouting the little boy crosses his arms and frowns. Jiraiya laughs 'til he cries._ Kakashi feels his throat constrict even as he wills his traitorous eyes not to leak. Jiraiya was his uncle and godfather, both protector and playmate. Yet he left him behind retuning only to damn near destroy his mind - thus giving him this advanced eye. Itachi was a gennin now and a bloody automaton. Jiraiya was right when he said the boy was nearing a breaking point, but when?

 

Swapping bullshit greetings with Sarutobi and his gennin teammates, Jiraiya surreptitiously observes Kakashi. Its 'obvious' the boy is still brooding - no wonder he and the Uchiha brat got along so friggin' well. While appearing the perfect soldier his aura speaks of a searching, a probing like a tongue looking for a lost tooth. Oh, well if it distracts him from Obito then it's an improvement. Jali seems cagy, but quiets after a little prodding from his seal. The others do well acting natural in spite of the flesh masks they wear. The Hokage says something he laughs appreciatively at. Somewhere in the village, a group of his best men are setting up a tableau and a well-planned back-story. Two more are among the Hyuuga while a third lures a young Sasuke away from the training fields. It's time for the first of many lessons.

 

/+++\

 

She is still awake waiting for Uncle Jira to give her a present. Neji lies on the floor by the door listening for footsteps. This will be their secret since tonight has a strict curfew for some reason. "Neji?" She turns to her nii-san, "yes?" He frowns as he stares at the puppet-training manual. "Do you think I can be the best at puppeteer if I try? I mean I've been working on this for years and gotten nowhere. Maybe I just lack talent." "So you're calling me a liar?" They turned with cheers only to stand still in shock. "Uncle?" Of course, they're use to pale skin and silver hair - not white hair and dark skin.

 

Neji activated his doujutsu for a moment. "You _are_ uncle… So, what happened?" Hinata pauses in her climbing into his lap to listen. Lifting the little girl into his lap and sighs. "I am a traitor, according to the greater part of the village. Moreover, I am wanted in connection to several ongoing investigations. In order to get anything dare I have to disguise myself, but the Sharingan and the Byakugan limit my efforts in such things - so…" Hinata traces his face her huge eyes filled with wonder. 'You are so cute!' "Anyway- who wants presents?!" Thank Kami-sama for silencing jutsu.

 

Leaving the tucker-out kids tucked with their new gear Jiraiya leaves through the door entering the hallway. Feet silent, he seems to vanish only to appear periodically. Pausing at a door that seems no more special then the others, he sets two scrolls before it. Vanishing he appears on the northeast wall. A low piercing whistle sounds. It stops and is followed by two yips. Going over the wall, he dashes away as the door is opened and the scrolls taken within the room. The door slides shut as silently as it opened. All is quiet.

 

/+++\

 

The force of his fist nearly breaks the table. "This is an outrage!" The council hums with displeasure. "Tadichi, calm down." Koharu stares down the willful man before nodding at Hiashi. "Thank you, as I'm sure the Uchiha can verify from witness reports the deceased and currently incarcerated were arguing loudly about this plot. We have the details of this argument in this transcript. I'm sure we'll have far more details when Ibiki finishes with his ah… task." Tadaichi looks like he wants to shout again, this is when Hizashi speaks. "As we are all aware of my brother and others traveled to Mist some years ago to sign an agreement with them. Kumo did the same."

 

Tadaichi doesn't seem as eager to disagree now. His escorts seem just as nervous. "Part of the agreements all parties signed stated that none of the parties would harm or try to 'steal' any of the re-established Mist bloodlines. One of these lines is the Suiseimeibo." Now Tadaichi begins to tremble the sweat thick on his brow. Pity could almost be felt for him as the Mizukage's right hand man steps forward. Hiashi continues, pounding the final nail in the coffin - "The Hyuuga are confirmed descendents of the Suseimeibo clan, and thus are protected by the agreements. Because the Kumo nin are found to have had the intent to commit harm against Mist, they must now pay the consequences."

 

Now Tali Chikashi speaks looking like a close cousin to the Uchiha. "The hidden village of the Mist asserts that as the Hyuuga are of Kohona they shall choose the punishment best suited to Konoha's interests. Whatever course they choose Mist will stand behind them with full support of its allies including Taziyan." This is a bold move on Tali's part and one that could backfire spectacularly. Instead, Tadaichi pales completely, even as the council restrains it's self from uproar. Everyone present knows the founder of little Taziyan which possesses more bloodlines then the five Great villages combined. Little Taziyan that can never be found by those of ill-intent, that is never in the same spot twice, but thrives when other's starve or are stricken with illness. Blasted Taziyan tucked away safely in Mist and protected by its founder Jiraiya the Legendary.

 

"Ah, what then is your demand Hyuuga-sama?" The twins share a look between each other before turning to Tali who nods once his eyes well above their heads. "You would have snatched a child from us - our heir. So now, we demand a child - the jinnchuriki Asao Yasuaki, holder of the two-tails. We ask not for crops nor land nor money only this one child." Tadaishi falls on his chubby knees all but weeping. "I cannot, I cannot promise such a thing! Ask anything, but that!" The infamous Hyuuga stare slowly stills his tongue and lowers his head. "Two weeks Tadaichi of Kumo. Return to your masters and tell them this must be done in two weeks or so help you Windfall will be the least of your worries and theirs." Turning on his heel Hiashi walks out followed by his smirking brother and the silent boy they brought with them - Kimimaro Kayuga of Taziyan.

 

/+++\

 

"And then what happened?" Sitting by the fire grate whittling a pipe Sakumo snorts, but Kimimaro beams as he continues his story. Jiraiya listens carefully despite having been there. Different perspectives are important. Pricking himself again, he stifles a curse while looking over the incomplete onesy. Sewing clothing is hard even if it's only a baby's onesy. Konohamaru is so small barely more then his hand and so fragile. "Then he just walked out and it was all quiet. The minute the doors closed behind us you could hear everyone gabbing!" Nodding he's glad he already gave Konohamaru his teddy bear. It's almost certain security was tighten after that. Sarutobi probably let the kid keep the damn toy anyway - softhearted old fool.

 

There are cave systems throughout Konoha leftovers from the near constant wars and skirmishes of times gone by. Tonight and tomorrow, they will camp here. So it will go until they reach Ieoya's Pass. That is where he and the others will ambush the caravan carrying the child and run off to the west and Taziyan. That was the plan the Raikage agreed to after all. _"You don't need this child here undermining your authority and you don't need more negative publicity." The tall man growls, "Nor does Konoha need two jinnchuriki." He smiles brightly, "They'll never see hide nor hair of her. I'll snatch her before then." They share a long look. "I promise."_

 

Yes, he'd steal the little girl at Ieoya's Pass leaving Konoha to bitch for a while. Kumo will counter with its losses versus Konoha. In the end, they'd haggle land rights and ransoms until Kumo get's its remaining delegates back and Konoha receives an ironclad contract witnessed and endorsed by the reigning daimyo of Fire and Lightening country prohibiting pirating of bloodlines between the two. A whole lot of noise about nothing while Jiraiya quietly acquires a jinnchuriki he has no intention of turning over to anyone… like say the heavily crippled Akatsuki. That brings a smile to his face - they wouldn't be able to move for years plenty of time to shore up himself, Taziyan, and Konoha. _'And Mist.'_ And Mist.

 

"Jiraiya? How come Konoha and Kumo don't like Taziyan? They got really upset when cousin Tali mentioned it." Sakumo stretches before snatching up the little boy and placing him in his lap. "Jiraiya founded Taziyan so that is one strike. Taziyan is bloodline rich so that is two strikes. Taziyan flourished during a time when famine and disease ravaged the countries especially Northern countries so that is three strikes. "The fire crackles as Sakumo formulates his next words, "Jiraiya is from Konoha. Kumo is toward the north. Both Konoha and Kumo are bloodline hungry." It is and it isn't as simple as that. Seeing the contemplative look on the kid's face Jiraiya grunts, "Go to sleep brat, you've got training tomorrow."

 

/+++\

 

Kimimaro stands in the middle of the road under a remote-controlled hedge. Beneath the earth he has fed several bone shoots. At his signal things are going to happen very fast. Six men dressed like minions of Akatsuki crouch on either side of the road. The survivors must believe this a hostile attack courtesy of the unknown men. Jiraiya himself has hedged into his sexy-jutsu form (complete with clothes). "Sakumo when I come out knock out the child and bind her with there rice ropes as you chant the words I taught you." She/he hands the White Fang a white slip of paper. "Attach this to her forehead when you are done." Signatures flicker closer to their ambush the Amazonian woman smiles deviously as she tosses her hair over her shoulder. "Hm, this ought to be fun Mutt." She laughs at the sour expression she is given.

 

Asahiko walks briskly irritated at everything. What right had the leaf to command the Cloud? The idiot demon-gaki giggles as the nin that carries her on his back skips and bounces like a fool. This is a waste - he could be at home comforting Koji's pretty wife so newly found of child. 'Damn brat I hope the leaf kill it.' It is his last thought just before the ground explodes.

 

Panicking the chunin run headlong toward Kimimaro who waits patiently as a spider. "Growth!" Too late, they stop only to be skewered where they stand. Two escape it - one through kage bunshin though the effort clearly wipes him out. The other a female used kamikawi and stands eyeing the brown-haired girl warily. "Who are you little girl?" Kimimaro wrinkles his face up at being called a girl. Bad enough most people thought he was one already. Still he says his lines. "I am a servant of Akatsuki and the jinnchuriki of the Niiubi belongs to them. Hand her over and we will let you live." Now the hidden men step out of hiding and with them comes the previously hidden detail of Kumo jounin who followed the chunin with the child.

 

Stepping out of hiding as Kimimaro retreats Jiraiya pouts cutely. "My, my so many playmates so little time to play." A white flash snatches the still shell-shocked child before the jounin can react. Swiftly all persons not of Kumo disappear leaving the confused remaining to patch up the injured and bury the dead. A small white bird watches with mechanical eyes. As it pushes off to fly, it is shot down from the sky. Miles away brain matter sprays the technological display as gasoline is methodically, but liberally doused over everything. An arsonist's matchbox is left smoldering at the center of a steadily dwindling dry spot. Soon it is drenched in accelerant. The little cave goes boom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Confused? Post a review for a personal reply or see the forum.
> 
> For the record it's only going to get more complicated from here on.
> 
> Next time in Chapter Seven:
> 
> Relatives, stalkers, and "new management".


	7. The Massacre pt 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Relatives, stalkers, and "new management".

**Year 7AK**

He nearly eviscerates the last man he faces, more from carelessness then actual malice. The gore coating from head to toe has begun to cool and cake adding to his sour mood. "Jiraiya-sama? We have eliminated the last men in this sector. Proceed to join you in the office?" Through smiling pulls the drying blood mask horribly Jiraiya does so anyway - Jali still behaves like a well-trained dog; always eager to meet his master. "Of course Jali, I'll be in the main office in less then five minutes." Walking briskly toward said main office, he listens to the screams still emanating from the West side of the sprawling compound. Lala is obviously still playing with her prey.

 

Tapping his earpiece, he opens a channel to admonish her. "Lala! Cut it the fuck out dammit! This is an 'in-and-out' okay? 'Wham, bam, thank you ma'am.' Nothing fancy, nothing identifying, and no fucking survivors alright? Now just kill the little peckerwood already!" Cutting off Lala's profanity-laden mutterings and the final animal terror screams of her current victim Jiraiya checks one more installation off the list. Gatou has become too bold - his 'empire' stretching from wispy tendrils in Kumo to robust limbs in the Unclaimed zone. If he kept this up Jiraiya wouldn't even need to kill him - a 'legal' assassination would be ordered by that powers that be.

 

Still he hoped to keep the fat fucker alive long enough for Naruto to have his breakthrough experience in Wave. Naruto came out a stronger, better person from the experience - not to mention tapping into Kyuubi's power… Thus, the current elimination of all non-Wave situated installations. If Gatou could be forced to squirrel away in Wave for at least a little while then Naruto would have his experience to keep him honest (and sane) later. Later when Kyuubi was whispering all the ways a soul dies to him. _'Aw, I thought you liked me Raiya.'_ Stupid fox. Ever since the merging with the six-tails and its container, Kyuubi has been acting weird…er. _'Mean. I'm not weird, I'm unique!'_ With a noticeable twitch, Jiraiya walks into an ambush.

 

"Geez, you didn't save us any?" Flicking a last piece of unidentifiable flesh off his sword. Jiraiya shrugs at Leilin's question. "You were moving too slow and I'm too irritated right now to play around with weak-minded fools." Stepping over the broken corpse at his feet the most wanted Nin in the elemental countries steps into the bright, blood-spattered office to raid its files and safes.

* * *

 

"What?!" The fat little butterball fairly quakes with righteous-fury. "This the thirteenth base hit in as many weeks!" Jerking his head to the right he watches as a pale, nervous numbers-cruncher adjusts the wall-encompassing charts. Half the red lights on the location chart are gone now with this one destroyed. The sloping production curve makes him tear up. "Whose doing this shit? Tell me that at least!"

 

"I'll tell you if you want." The voice is… asexual and almost bestial. If the Cheshire cat were real, this is what it would sound like. She or he lies on the ceiling blond hair stirred gently by the air condition. Thin as a blade with an eye patch, in red and black clothing too big for it, this intruder doesn't seem too impressive. However, the light in its visible eye is unstable and unnerving. "Who da fuck are you?" Tonto - big, stupid, and now rather dead, a spatter all across the ceiling and walls.

 

Disgusted Gatou carefully wipes the warm … stuff off his face. Whatever else he may be… he isn't stupid so he doesn't shout or bluster. "Who are you and what do you want in exchange for this information?" The psycho smiles eye rolling in its socket with barely contained amusement. "My name is Deidera and I want o kill Jiraiya Noninuzuka. I also want to get paid - pay me and I'll bring you back his head." Gatou is no fool. "How much?"

* * *

 

'How to break into Kohona, kill Root's leader, mind-fuck Sasuke Uchiha, and get out during the Uchiha Massacre.' A dissertation in progress. "Sakumo? Where would an Anbu hide in plain sight?" Sakumo eyes him blankly as Arashi, called Tenchi, runs through another high-speed kata. Tenchi is soulless but his abilities are magnificent as is his mind. "Tenchi, thought exercise!" The key to effective leadership Jiraiya has learned is that it is 9.9 tenths delegation. "Tenchi in this folder is some information. With this information I want you to answer this list of questions to the best of your abilities. When you're done return this to me." The masked figure nods briskly and moves to leave. "Sir, may I finish today's training first?" 'Oh, Arashi.' Smiling broadly with false cheer the sannin replies, "Of course, just don't wear yourself out."

 

Soon the dojo rings with Tenchi's shouts again before the boy - man disappears to his private training grounds. Sakumo watches his friend for a moment before sliding in behind him. Settling the taller man between his legs, he sighs as he wraps his arms around him. Leaning back Jiraiya revels in the warmth and security of Sakumo's arms. "If it hurts you to see him like this why keep him so near you?" Curling himself up within the space of Sakumo's still strong arms the at least quasi-immortal ninja buries his face in sandalwood-scented skin instead of speaking. Rough hands slide under his shirt. "Sakumo?" Only the note of anxious uncertainty draws the White Fang's attention. "Hmm?" The older man arches up allowing his younger friend access to his neck, collar, and once more his lips.

 

Humming with guilt-tinged pleasure Jiraiya allows himself to be laid on his back. "Oh!" How a ninja could miss the click of an opening door… sex-addled or not. "Shit!" Struggling out from under a randy, half-naked Hatake is a very difficult task as anyone who's been though it can tell you. Still Jiraiya hasn't gotten to where he's at by giving up (although if he were going to, now would be the time) and so he escapes. Standing warily between a panting Sakumo and a mortified Pari Jiraiya attempts to salvage some dignity. "Yes, Pari?" Flustered by the sight of two half-naked, well-toned men still panting and flushed and...sweaty… Ah, flustered by the sight Pari performs a magnificent impersonation of little Hinata's 'nervous stance' - fingertips pointing; face a bright red, stuttering full blast as she stares at her feet pointed inward.

 

"Oh, Jiraiya-sama…ah. That is-I just… um. I m-me. I m-m-mean…oh." Straightening up as she tries to man up Pari is startled to feel feverish hands on her slender shoulders. No one touches an energy-sucker. "Get off me Sakumo! Fuckin' pervert!" Ah, the irony of which Pari is totally unaware. Understandable since no one except Jiraiya-sama has ever touched her having never feared her… So very, very strange. "Um… Jiraiya-sama, there is an ah… messenger waiting in the main hall. He is a Konoha-nin, a man named Tobe Inuzuka; he says he's your cousin." There is more to say, like how angry and confused he is or how he keeps looking over his shoulder as though in search of someone or thing. However, the brown hands are gone along with their owner.

 

Toboe growls deep in his throat nose twitching as he wonders for the nth time where the hell Mamosa is? 'It can't take this long to mark this place.' The blade at his throat is a complete surprise. "What do you want and how the hell did you get here?" Sharp teeth gleam inches from his tattooed face. "Geez cuz, stop being so antisocial. Can't family visit family?" Tossing his cousin to the ground Jiraiya snorts. "The Inuzuka have no truck with the ill-bred bastards of "clan less" whores. In fact if I recall correctly when I got these", and here his hidden tattoos appear, "our precious family howled for my immediate termination."

 

Toboe doesn't really have a leg to stand on regarding that. The clan doesn't want anything even remotely incestuous in it. Close-breeding bred madness as the Uchiha demonstrated or stagnation as the Hyuuga showed. Jiraiya sadly was born of an Inuzuka male and his unacknowledged half-sister, a well-frequented whore named Tsusami. Jiraiya might have - been formally claimed if his father had fought for it, but Tsusami was his half-sister for a reason. Leroho hated her. Their mating was less a tryst of passion then it'd been a quiet rape. As such, Jiraiya has always been the badge of Inuzuka shame, the more so because of his legendary status. Now after all he's done as an missing-nin the clan has decided to not only claim him, but to put him down once and for all. A pack puts down it's mad and the Inuzuka are nothing if not a pack.

 

At least that was the clan elders' thoughts. Toboe however had far different ideas. He knows things are seldom as they appear. Being a member of the Inuzuka only Anbu squad he knows the intricacies of scent and intrigue in a manner few would ever understand. Having known the child Naruto and the man Arashi, knowing the Anbu Kakashi and the Hyuuga twins - Toboe has come to a starling conclusion. A conclusion borne-up by the clean astringent scent wearing off the man before him. Because of this, he will inform Jiraiya of his coming doom. "There's a blond bitch looking to kill you. As this fits into the designs of the elders one or two foolishly contacted her."

 

Jiraiya is listening although he is having trouble understanding - no he understands all too well. 'A blond bitch - Deidera.' So Deidera lived…huh. Deidera and probably Sasori unless he didn't in which case it makes perfect sense for Deidera to hate him. Toboe's mouth continues to run. "She killed them, tortured them first and then killed them. Mailed their pieces back to us one by one." The sandy-haired young man swallows quickly eyes suddenly agleam. "They told her everything, including my Anbu affiliation and tracking specialty. I came back to Konoha one day to find my wife gone. She's five months pregnant! Was anyway. I don't know now. There was so much blood. It was everywhere!"

 

As the man begins to hyperventilate and then shake with sobs, Jiraiya comes out of his slight trance. Voice gruff he bends down to lift the obviously unsettled man up. "Come on, we'll get you something to eat and you can sleep." Whatever reaction Jiraiya was expecting, he certainly wasn't expecting the hysterical burst of laughter he received. "No, no, no! She's coming **now**! I'm sorry. I'm so fucking' sorry, but now you're all gonna die and I'll get my life back. My poor Yona, my poor sweet Yona. We can have another baby."

 

As the obviously broken man curls into himself on the ground still whispering to a woman most likely dead a week already, Konoha's Poltergeist can feel only pity. Every Anbu has a touchstone, an anchor to sanity and Toboe's was clearly Yona. Without Yona, there has been nothing to hold him together. "Sakumo, take him to a room and sedate him. I'll meet Deidera outside the village. Jali, gather the sharpshooters and position them at the highest points of the perimeter." Unleashing all his suppression seals the Traitor of Akatsuki rushes out to meet a madman better off dead.

 

Pari gingerly takes the body Sakumo gives her wary of feeding off it. Even now she can't really control her vampiric abilities. Concentrating so that sweat stands out upon her forehead, she carries the poor man to a spare room. Lying him on the freshly turned-down bed, she binds him with the weakest grade of her energy-leeching webbing. Reaching back to open the bedside table, she removes a vial of morphine - this is Tenchi's room at times after all. Such horrible nights Tenchi has sometimes - nights only morphine can tame. Pulling the small needle from her apron pocket, she reaches for an alcohol pad in the bedside drawer.

 

"She's crazier then anyone I've ever met, you know?" His eyes are a sliver of white around deep pits of black. "Her eyes are so wrong. I've met people that were messed up, you know? It's my job after all, but she's so far beyond that point now… Huh. Yona's probably dead now, but if I- it. I at least brought the bitch to Raiya. Then, I don't know maybe they'll take each out and I don't know… 'Two for one'- it's a good deal, right?"

 

Listening to his fractured laughter as the stench of his fear sweat fills her nose, Pari readies the needle with practiced ease. "Sleep. When you wake up maybe things will be better." The needle slides easily into his arm and soon the manic light in his eyes dims into something human before it winks out. The bronze clock in the kitchen chimes; for once she ignores it to watch this poor, sad boy sleep. Threading her fingers through his tangled hair she decides he can't be much more then twenty.'

* * *

 

'Stupid bastard. I can't stand dogs!' Five-years-old with a pair of monstrous teeth snapping at his heels. Screaming himself hoarse as his eyes roll and the big men laugh like the demons they appear. "I hate dogs, Inuzuka! Especially dogs that bite the hands that fucking feeds them." She drops the head she has been carefully stabbing repeatedly. Drops it carelessly atop the still steaming pile of entrails and skin. Blood, offal, and unidentifiable pieces radiate from the pile to decorate the trees amid the raw, new clearing. Her hands are red, so very, very red because she is very, very pale - with rage.

 

Teeth gleaming in a wide predatory grin Deidera watches Jiraiya's casual approach. She decides she hates him more then she'll ever hate dogs. 'Bloody huge dog it was. 'Stupid fox, dog, frog bastard fucker!' ' _Be careful Deidera. We need his knowledge and that is not something we can obtain if he is dead.'_ Even as a voice in her head Sasori is a fucking drag. 'Yeah, yeah. Kill him we should, yeah!' They stare at each other - Jiraiya and Deidera, the blond looking the worse for wear. Her formerly heavy drape of blond hair now hangs in short, ragged oddly-arranged strips around his/her head. The head of which half is badly damaged and missing an eye as the other one rolls madly above an unbalanced grin.

 

"So…ya wanna kill me? Fine. One question -where's Yona, the pregnant chick you kidnapped?" The nearly anorexic female chuckles atonally, shoulders jerking oddly-almost woodenly. "Is he still going on about that? I guess some people just can't deal with their sins." Looking completely malevolent the Deconstructionist stares Jiraiya right in the eye - "He killed her himself with his own blasted hands and he wanted to do it no matter if I held the strings or not." It's clear now. The fools contacted Deidera who killed them and came to recruit the man they would have. Toboe refused of course and Deidera fucked him over by making him kill Yona and think he wanted to. Toboe not being able to deal had then followed Deidera wherever if only to forget.

 

You can almost see the temperature drop. The sneer on the sannin's face an act of violence in it's self. "Well one of us is definitely going to die here - personally I think it'll be you." They move as one jumping back as the rest of Toboe's squad falls from the trees. Deidera vanishes into the woods leaving Jiraiya to deal with a smirking Inuzuka - a girl named Yona judging by Deidera's shock countenance. "You can give up or you can watch your precious village burn." Who knew Inuzuka could sink so low, and yet dogs are little more then wolves.

 

"And Toboe?" Her face stills so completely it's obvious this is a sore point for her. She shrugs, "He'd become a liability. Liabilities will always be dealt with." Loosening his stance Jiraiya keeps prodding waiting for Sakumo to give the signal… Never mind the idiot should be in the village. "And the girl Toboe killed in your place? Was she a liability? Was the child she carried?" A black-mask snorts higher up in the branches. 'Fast didn't even see him move. And the girl doesn't even bother with a mask… She must be good or this group backing her is.' "Enough! Come on or die here - it doesn't really matter."

 

"Oh, I think it does." Confusion colors the clearing as a strong voice rings out - one not heard by a Konoha-nin in years. 'Damnit Sakumo! What are you thinking?!' Tenchi steps out of the trees mask in one hand, one of his special kunai in the other. "What the hell is this?!" Black mask doesn't seem so cocky now, but his shout works in rousing Yona out of her stupor. "So it's true?" She speaks to Jiraiya though her eyes never leave Tenchi's face. "You are an abomination playing God. Is it any wonder so many wish to kill you?" As she speaks she draws a large knife from her belt. It shines with an inner light that promises pain. And now her eyes bright with rage bore into the time-traveler's; "For this", she nods toward blond-headed Tenchi, "I'll kill you dead." She strikes like a snake.

 

Imagine her surprise when her blow is blocked-stopped dead by the blond in her way. "You shall not harm Master Jiraiya bitch." Its doubtful she head him eyes unfocused as she stares into his face. "You look like him, sound like him, move like him, hell you even smell like him." The quiet shock in her voice is almost enough to humanize her. Too bad it's not nearly enough for Tenchi, "I head him screaming. I heard him screaming for you." Tenchi never sounds angry, only degrees of cold. Right now his voice is hitting the absolute zero. A kunai slashes through her throat spraying Tenchi's elfin face.

 

Before the body can even hit the dirt, Sakumo has sent two more from the trees to join it. The wire embedded in their throats gleams weakly through the sluggishly pooling blood of their wounds. Three bodies out of seven. The remaining four split off in several directions. It's obvious they're heading toward the village. It's just as obvious they aren't aware of the snipers or that Deidera has probably beaten them there. "Sakumo! Tenchi! Meet Jali in the village and make sure all the children and untrained are below ground. This is a level four security code. Kill all intruders on sight."

* * *

 

Watching Hiane's head explode in a shower of gore Esha swears a bloody streak. These thrice-damned snipers are laying down too much fire. He can't get anywhere near close enough to detonate the packages they laid earlier. "I hate liars." Esha freezes wondering how even in this brouhaha he could have missed someone sneaking up behind him. "Who's a liar?" Stupid questions, get violent answers - Deidera snaps her fingers causing the ground beneath Esha to explode.

 

Ever an artist Deidera examines the kneeling skeletal work, which is jawless, mostly fleshless, and armless below the elbow. The red foam-like mess around the still steaming corpse is an excellent touch in his opinion. Walking over to a still twitching hand the former rock-nin removes the detonator beneath it and palms it for later. "I really fuckin' hate liars. I really, really hate backstabbers." ' _Deidera stop muttering to yourself and get over to Jiraiya_ _now_ _!'_ Lowering his head in submission the ex-Akatsuki mutters a 'Hai, Sasori-danna." and proceeds to run-down that 'frog/dog/fox bastard'.

 

Said bastard is literally ripping the spine out of the last Inuzuka agent along with the idiot's brain stem. Ignoring the inch-thick blood layer he's somehow acquired the legendary nin takes a particularly vindictive pleasure in stomping the bloody head beneath his heel. " **Never** speak ill of my mother dickhead." "Um, Jiraiya-sama?" Sweat dropping quietly Jiraiya turns about slowly with an embarrassed grin on his face. "Yeah?" Jali sighs and bows with a roll of the eyes. "We have collected all the corpses - there are seven and none seem to have been altered or tagged."

 

'Good, that leaves only Deidera's psycho ass.' Nodding sagely the mountain hermit grins widely - a little too widely. "Good, don't let down your guard yet. There's still a lunatic on the loose, and no dear I don't mean me." Turning slowly he isn't too surprised to see Tenchi standing in front of him limbs akimbo. Yes, Tenchi's stance rather screams - 'You aren't going anywhere alone'. "You aren't going Tenchi, neither are you Sakumo, don't even think about it Jali. I'm going out, I'll be back - I'm the oldest person here as well as the strongest. Therefore, shut up, mind your elders, and watch the goddamn village! I swear if this place isn't standing when I get back every one of you is getting the beating of your deaths before I bring you back to finish the job."

 

Walking off with the snickering of certain critters in his head the sannin Jiraiya isn't nearly as sure of himself as he let on. Deidera was dangerous enough without a deep-seated psychosis. Besides which Iwa-nin have never been his favorite people; too sneaky, too hard to kill, too damn intent on maiming for the sake of it… Or maybe that was just the bastards he was meeting. 'If I were a psychotic he/she who wanted to kill me where the hell would my creepy little ass be?' Abruptly he stops - two choices: air or earth.

 

Faster then he's ever moved he launches himself off the ground and into the air. Still he's caught in the after blast. Doesn't matter the burns he accumulates heal as soon as he gains them. Still he liked this outfit. The shadow overhead is his signal to kawakami with a nearby log. 'Shit Deidera had time to plan. Fucked up, as he is the bastard is a menace given enough time to plan. 'Okay Naruto help me out.' Eyes flickering rapidly behind tightly clenched eyelids Jiraiya "sees" several sequences involving Kage-bushin and one or two well-placed kawakami. 'Okay.'

* * *

 

'Where the hell is he?' Sasori is a calming presence at the base of his skull. Suddenly a barrage of kunai flies at him and his clay bird. Directing the bird higher the clay-artist is shocked to see half the kunai transform into exact replica off Jiraiya, of these half work to propel the other half higher into the air, Those then toss another barrage of kunai - over the bird, There are explosive tags attached to these. They explode in a bright, eye-searing blast. In the confusion, Jiraiya lands a single finger on the clay creature. It's enough. His supremacies are open.

 

'Break.' The claybird comes asunder with a terrible shriek. Deidera leaps off to somersault upward. Shock of shocks as his rags part to unleash a set of colossal wings. Or rather, a beautiful ceramic and oil paper rendition of wings. They are the blood-red and bone-white of an avenging angel. Beneath their glare, poor, mad Deidera is beautiful - but these are Sasori's wings… 'Shit.' Five seconds, five seconds - the time it takes to tie your shoes on a cold day and all this has occurred.

 

The sixth second occurs and Jiraiya is falling toward his waiting vanguard of shadow clones. He'll never make it at the rate he falls. Deidera descending still faster on puppet-master wings. "Elon's waking: Guard of woods." The trees shake themselves before great tendrils of wood spring forth to attack the approaching Deidera. It's not enough, but in the time Deidera must take to adjust Jiraiya is safely encapsulated in the arms of his clones. The clone who called out the justu pants raggedly as he flickers in and out of focus. "Sorry boss - this is too much for me." He gives out and up as the trees freeze into an awkward landscape out of a child's night terrors. Deidera's shadow passes overhead.

* * *

 

"You should be in bed." Pari pads softly after the boy-man Toboe whose face is smeared with dirt from his frantic sniffing. "There are four more bombs - I know it." The other nine are cradled carefully in Pari's stick-like arms. The village is empty everyone either underground or a flicker out of the corner of one's eyes. Level four and if not for her presence Toboe would have been dead four times over before he ever found a single one. "We need to get back to the house." Pari never goes underground - too many people, too much temptation and - She can't let herself think of that.

 

"Damn you Jiraiya!" Carelessly the skeletal blond stalks through the undergrowth. Two hours they've played cat and mouse. Two hours and he grows weary while this ageless bastard plays hide and peek-a-boo. _'Now would be the time to play your ace.'_ Right. Patting down his sides and various pockets the androgynous artist finally pulls out the detonator from earlier. "Oh, frog-freak! If you don't want me to blow your little toy town to smithereens you'd best get you're ass out here!"

 

The forest is silent as she waits impatiently tapping the plastic device against her thigh. Jiraiya steps out of the under-wood face a mask of forbearance. "Give me the fucking detonator." Smiling like a rabid fox - the holder of said detonator laughs maliciously." Hm, I think not after all - "After all you're not stupid enough to kill yourself." Toboe hangs from the branch above like some sort of demented bat, Mamosa's head in his arms Yona's blade in its mouth.

 

"Pari! What da hell?!" Pari sits nestled in the crack of a fallen tree a bundle of platinum strings in her brittle-looking hand, "Sorry Jiraiya-san, but Toboe-kun insisted and it's just as well right?" 'Geez a couple of hours with the idiot and she's got more confidence then I've ever inspired in her.' Pouting as he crosses his arms, the unlikely jinnchiriki watches as Deidera slowly builds to a boil. "Bastards! Dick-headed, cunt-ass, cum-sucking, shit-for-brain sons of the morgue whores! You'll die too! I'll push this button and we'll all fuckin' die!"

 

"Actually only you and Tobe-kun will die. I feed on energy and besides I have my energy-absorbing webs to protect me. Jiraiya-sama is almost incapable of dying at this point. It'd take a week at most for him to recover from a blast of this magnitude." Toboe smiles, "Right and I don't really have anything to lose at this point. You've taken everything I care about." The morphine's effect is rapidly melting off as Toboe pats the head of his dog never mind the flies buzzing on its golf-ball size eyes. "Not a thing, I don't have a fucking thing… So", and now he pulls out his own detonator, "Let's have a Blast!" The forest is a show of fire and lights.

 

"How do you displace an entire village?" Asuma shrugs lighting up another clove-scented stick. "How do you twist a forest up like that? How do you destroy an army? How do you do any number of the things that Jiraiya has?" Still… "Asuma-san, Kakashi-kun come look!" Trying hard not to laugh at the twitch Kakashi gives at being called kun by _Gai_ the stocky jounin wanders over to an overly excited group. The sound of flies is heard long before the stench hits them. "Aw, shit."

 

The collective body parts of a group are arranged in a circular pattern around two poles driven into the earth. "How did we miss this before?" A pretty if slightly green chunin answers with one word 'genjustsu'. There are two letters - one on each pole, the first says Hokage, the second says Inuzuka. A large boning knife lies beneath the latter, a blond lock of hair beneath the former. "What does it mean?", ever oblivious Gai - still a child at twenty. "It's not like we are really wanna know." It's quiet after that.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End Chapter Seven
> 
> Kind of short considering the last few chapters, huh.
> 
> Chapter Eight ought to be longer.
> 
> As always:
> 
> Confused? Post a review for a personal reply.
> 
> For the record, it's only going to get more complicated from here on.
> 
> Next time in Chapter Eight:
> 
> Healers, Improbable Children, and the moon sets on the Uchiha


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